


See Derek Date

by mikkimouse



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Hand Jobs, Humor, M/M, Matchmaker!Stiles, Minor Cora Hale/Lydia Martin, Minor Danny Mahealani/Isaac Lahey, Minor Scott McCall/Allison Argent, Past Derek Hale/Jordan Parrish, Peter is a creeper, SO MANY DATES (most of them terrible), Writer!Derek, brief Derek Hale/Danny Mahealani, minor Derek Hale/others (see author's notes), minor erica reyes/vernon boyd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 16:41:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4067176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikkimouse/pseuds/mikkimouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Derek sees his ex-boyfriend, Jordan, for the first time in ten years, he tells a little white lie about his love life (or lack thereof). Of course, that all blows up in his face when his sister Cora finds out and demands that Derek bring his (imaginary) boyfriend to her wedding. </p>
<p>Now he's got one month to change that "imaginary" boyfriend into an actual one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. See Derek Panic

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Mira a Derek salir con-](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4136343) by [EarlofKashale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarlofKashale/pseuds/EarlofKashale)



> Written for the Bitetime Fest, and based on the movie See Jane Date. The most I did was read the plot summary on Wikipedia, so if you're a fan of the movie, I apologize profusely because this probably has very little in common with it. However, I did have a ton of fun writing it, so I hope you all enjoy reading it!
> 
> A major thanks to Domesticated Chaos for the beta, and my lovely band of Sterekers for their sprinting and encouragement!
> 
> If I've missed any tags, let me know in the comments or in [my askbox.](http://mad-madam-m.tumblr.com/ask)
> 
> To see the full list of guys Derek dates, see the end notes.

Derek knew he shouldn't have answered his phone. As soon as he saw Kira's number, he should have just ignored it. An actual call could never mean anything good for him. 

But he didn't. He answered it, fool that he was. "This is Derek."

"Derek," Kira said, with a tone that implied she was about to ask a favor and he wasn't going to like it. 

"No," he said automatically.

" _Please_ , I'm begging you. I'm across the city and I have an in-person interview at three. There's no way I'll make it." 

Derek glanced at the clock. It was 2:45. Some notice she was giving him. "Have you _seen_ my workload? I've got five articles and some ad copy that needs to get out the door _today_."

"I know, I know, and I swear I'll make it up to you." At least she sounded apologetic. "I'm so sorry, but you're the only one there I'd trust to handle this interview; it's going to be the cover story in September."

He could just picture the wide eyes she was probably giving the phone. Derek groaned and resigned himself to working late tonight. "You're going to owe me. Big." 

"Oh, _thank_ you. You're the best. Seriously, just name the favor and it's yours."

"Careful with that," Derek said. 

"You are _saving my life_. I would give you my first born if I thought you'd want them." Kira's voice faded a little, like she was holding the phone away from her mouth. "All the notes and questions for the interview should be in your email...now." 

His computer beeped with a new message, and Derek checked his tablet to make sure the email synced properly. "Received." 

"Great. The interview will be in the conference room. You are the absolute _best_ , Derek!" 

The phone beeped with her disconnect before he could even respond. Derek sighed and stood up, tablet and phone in hand. He'd read the notes on his way to the break room to grab some coffee for him and the interviewee. 

He swiped the tablet, took one look at the name at the top of the notes, and immediately called Kira back. 

"Derek? What—" 

" _Jordan Parrish?_ " Derek shouted. Two people poked their heads up over the cubicles to look at him, and Derek forced himself to lower his voice. "Your interview is with _Jordan Parrish_?"

"Yes?" Kira sounded confused. "Do you know him?" 

"We—" Derek checked the break room; no one was in there, so he ducked inside and shut the door. "We went to high school together." 

Kira squealed. "Oh, that's perfect! You'll get a chance to catch up." 

Catch up. With Jordan. Derek laughed bitterly. "We used to date."

There was a beat before Kira answered. "Uh-oh." 

"He dumped me on prom night."

"Omigod," Kira said in a rush. "Shit, Derek, I'm so sorry, I had no idea."

"Of course you didn't," Derek muttered. It wasn't like he made a habit going around telling people about his failed high school relationship. Or his failed _any_ relationship. His career was about the only aspect of his life that could be labeled a "success."

"I can get someone else to do it," Kira said. "Maybe Greenberg?" 

Like hell he was letting Greenberg take a cover story interview. "No, I can do it," Derek said. "It'll be fine. Probably isn't even the same guy." 

" _Thank you._ " Kira sounded outrageously relieved. "You're a life saver. Seriously. And if it is the same guy, I'll owe you two favors."

Two favors from Kira? Derek felt his eyebrows climb to his head. "You're going to regret that in two months."

"You are saving my ass. Believe me, I won't."

Derek hung up again and sighed, looking back at the notes Kira had emailed him. His stomach twisted back in knots at the sight of "Jordan Parrish" at the top of them.

He took a few deep breaths. He was a professional. He'd interviewed half the cast of X-men his first week on the job. He'd gotten an exclusive with Alfie Enoch after he was cast as Miles Morales. He could do this.

Besides, there were lots of Jordan Parrishes in the world, no doubt. What were the chances it was the same guy?

***

The chances turned out to be pretty damn good, actually.

Derek opened the conference room to see a very familiar blond-haired, green-eyed sexy specimen of a man sitting in a swivel chair at the opposite end of the table. Even though his skin wasn't as pale as it had been in high school and he'd bulked up a bit, Derek would have recognized him anywhere.

It was like being kicked in the stomach to see him again, but the shock didn't last as long as Derek had expected. He shook his shoulders to loosen the tension there and put on his best friendly, professional smile. "Jordan Parrish?"

Jordan sat up and broke out into a blinding smile that used to make Derek's palms sweat and his heart beat faster. "Holy shit, Derek? Derek Hale?"

Derek hoped his smile didn't turn into a grimace, and he strode around the table to shake Jordan's hand. He could be civil, despite what his sister thought. "Jordan. It's been a few years."

To his surprise, Jordan hopped up out of the chair and swept him into a hug. "Tell me about it! I haven't seen you since graduation. I thought you went to, like, Texas or something."

Derek stiffened, and awkwardly patted Jordan on the back in the hopes it would make the hug end sooner. "Illinois, actually."

"Ah!" Jordan backed off and clapped him on the shoulder. "Man, it's good to see you. I'm surprised, though. I thought the interview was with someone named Kira?"

Derek waved his tablet and sat at the table, gesturing for Jordan to do the same. "She had a family emergency, so I volunteered to help out."

Jordan grinned wider and dropped back into his chair. "Oh ho." He wiggled his eyebrows. "She sounds special." 

Derek resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "She is. She's one of the best writers we have." 

"Nothing else going on between you two?" Jordan pressed.

"Friends," Derek said shortly. "Now, I know you've got a busy day, so we should get started." 

"Oh, come on." Jordan waved the words away. "We haven't seen each other in ten years. We can take ten minutes to catch up." 

_I don't_ want _to catch up with you_. Derek swallowed the words. He'd promised Kira he'd handle this, and he couldn't do that if he pissed off the interviewee. 

"Seriously, what have you been up to since high school?" Jordan asked, apparently oblivious to Derek's irritation. "What did you do in Illinois?" 

"College." Derek shrugged. "Work. Got a job with the magazine after I got my master's, and I've been here ever since." 

"Master's, nice!" Jordan said. "Always knew you were a smart one. I'm not surprised you got all academic." 

"What about you?" Derek asked, just to get the questions off him. 

"Oh, I did the college thing, transferred from Berkeley down to USC and got involved with the drama department there. Worked in a few student films, and that's when the producer for _Drake's Crossing_ picked me up. Next thing I know, I'm flying to Vancouver to be on a TV show. Crazy, huh?" 

"Insane," Derek deadpanned. 

"And, you know, that's where I met my girlfriend. Well, fiancée now." Jordan tapped the tablet. "Don't write about that. No one's supposed to know. We'll announce it next week." 

Derek felt his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. " _Girl_ friend?"

Jordan smirked. "Yeah, college helped me realize I fell a little more on the bi side of the spectrum."

That was a surprise. Jordan had been adamantly all about guys in high school. 

"So what about you?" Jordan asked. "Got someone special in your life?" 

Derek was going to say _no_. Really, he was. The word was right on the tip of his tongue.

But then Jordan leaned back in his chair and opened his mouth again. "Don't tell me you turned into one of those old boring guys who's so focused on his career he forgets about the important things in life." 

"I have a boyfriend," Derek said, and _what_. 

Jordan grinned. "That's awesome! How long have you two been together?" 

"About six, seven months." _Shut up, shut up, what are you doing?!_ "He's really great." 

"Cool. Seriously, that's good to hear." Jordan leaned over and punched him lightly in the shoulder. "Good for you." 

Derek squirmed internally at the lie, but hell, he hadn't seen Jordan for nearly ten years before now. He'd probably go another ten before they ran into each other again. "Thanks. Anyway, we should probably get on with the interview."

"Aw, come on," Jordan wheedled. "Let's talk some more." 

"I'm not the one who's supposed to be getting interviewed." Derek checked the clock. "And we only have forty-five minutes now."

"Oh, _fine_." Jordan made a face. "You sound like my assistant." 

_A person who is no doubt grossly underpaid_ , Derek thought.

***

The rest of the interview was relatively painless. Derek turned over his notes and recordings to Kira when she got back to the office, she hugged and thanked him profusely, and Derek gave his little white lie not another thought. It hadn't been as bad as he'd feared, and while he was still a little bitter about the way Jordan had dumped him, he was 27 years old. He could, indeed, be a damn professional when he needed to be. 

Besides, it wasn't like anyone else had heard it.

He went home that evening with the intention of hitting the gym with his phone and the next episode of _Leverage_ , and afterward raising a beer to his non-existent boyfriend. He didn't mind being single—really, he didn't—but Jordan's attitude just got under his skin. 

Not having a steady relationship didn't make him a failure. He had friends, Erica and Boyd and Isaac and Kira. And no matter how much they grated on his nerves, he had his family, his parents and his sisters. 

Sure, it would be nice to have a boyfriend, nice to have someone in bed next to him, someone whose face would light up to see him at the end of the day. But that was just something Derek wanted, not something he _needed_. It was fine. He was fine. 

Cora called him halfway through his run on the treadmill, and Derek frowned. Normally she just texted. "Hello?" 

"Derek!" she said brightly. 

Too brightly. Derek was immediately on high alert. "Yes, Cora?" 

"You'll never guess who Mom and I ran into today!" 

Derek rolled his eyes. "The Dalai Lama." 

"Har har." He was pretty sure Cora was sticking her tongue out at the phone. "No, you dope. Jordan." 

_Shit_. "Did you now?" Derek said, trying to keep his voice light. "I had to interview him today for the magazine." 

"Yes, he mentioned that," Cora said. 

_Oh no_. Derek could see where this was going, and there was no way for him to stop it. He punched the button on the treadmill to slow it to a crawl. Maybe he could deflect the conversation some other direction if he just—

"You _asshole_ , why the hell didn't you tell me you had a boyfriend?"

Too late. Derek winced at the fury in her voice. "Look, Cora, it wasn't—"

"No, you know what? I don't want to hear it. It's probably some ridiculousness like you didn't want to jinx it. Which, I understand. I get that. The first few months Lydia and I were together I spent every waking moment terrified I was going to do something that would make her hate me and I would lose the best thing in my life." 

"In that case, she wouldn't have deserved you," Derek said loyally. 

"Thanks." Cora's voice softened on the word. "But, okay, six months, I guess I can kind of see why you didn't say anything." 

Derek sighed. "Cora, seriously—"

"But you _are_ bringing him to my wedding, right?" 

Derek froze and almost fell off the treadmill. _What?_ "What?" 

"Please, Derek?" she said, in the same tone of voice that used to get her extra sprinkles and chocolate chips on her ice cream when they were kids. "I know it would be a little overwhelming—okay, possibly a lot overwhelming—but I would really, really like to meet this guy, and I know Mom and Dad and Laura would too." 

Oh God, he was going to break his baby sister's heart. Derek steeled himself. "Cora—"

"It's just...you haven't really been with anybody since high school, at least not long-term. And I know you get lonely. I just want you to have what Lydia and I have, you know? And maybe I'm a little irked Jordan found out before we did, but that's not a big deal. What matters is that you're happy. You are happy, right?" 

And what the hell was he supposed to say to _that?_ "Yeah. I'm happy." 

"That's awesome." Cora sounded so genuinely thrilled. "So you'll bring him to the wedding, right? Please?" 

Derek gently beat his head against the bar of the treadmill. He was good at a lot of things, but saying "no" to his little sister had never been one of them. "Okay. I'll bring him."

"Yay!" There was a sound on the other end of the line like Cora was dancing around the room. "That's great. Mom and I can't wait to meet him! Oh, I have to run. Lydia just got here with the new caterer. Did I tell you the last one backed out?" 

Derek climbed off the treadmill and grabbed his water. "Yeah, something about being double-booked?" 

"Specifically, their sister's getting married the same day and desperately wanted to keep the catering in the family." Cora grunted in disgust. "Lydia promises this one's good, though, and I trust her. There are days I'm pretty sure she came out of the womb knowing how to plan an event." 

"There are days I agree with you," Derek said. "I'll let you go, then." 

"Okay! Love you, big brother. And don't forget to bring your boy to the wedding!" 

Derek felt vaguely sick to his stomach. "Love you, little sister. I won't."

***

The first thing Derek did after hanging up the phone was panic for about five minutes, because he'd just promised his little sister that he'd bring his nonexistent boyfriend to her wedding. 

The second thing he did was call Boyd, because Boyd kept a calm head in every situation and could help Derek figure out how to get out of this. After he called him an idiot, of course. 

Thus, two hours after his disastrous phone call with Cora, Derek was at Boyd and Erica's apartment with Chinese food and beer and Erica laughing so hard she was squeaking like she couldn't breathe. 

Derek scowled into his beer and sank deeper into the couch. "It's not funny." 

"Oh, I disagree." Erica wiped tears—actual _tears_ —from her eyes. "You lied to your ex about having a boyfriend, and he told your sister and your mom. It's _hilarious_."

Derek let his head fall against the back of the couch. "I don't know what I was thinking." 

"You weren't," Boyd said from the other side of Erica. "You've never thought straight where Jordan is concerned."

" _Straight_ ," Erica repeated, and went off with another peal of laughter. 

Derek groaned. "Yes, I'm an idiot. But if I don't get a boyfriend before Cora's wedding, she's going to kill me. Or cry. And then my _mother_ will kill me for ruining her wedding."

"You can't just tell her that you guys broke up before the wedding?" Boyd asked. "A lot can happen in a month." 

He'd considered that, he really had. "I could, but do you have any idea how horrible it's going to make her feel if she's about to pledge herself to the love of her life and I just got dumped? It'll wreck her whole day, probably wreck the wedding, and again, my mother will _kill me_. Not to mention Cora would try to track the guy down."

Erica covered her mouth, but her brown eyes were still dancing with delight. "Oh, I'd love to see that." 

"Don't you remember what she did to Jordan in high school?" Boyd asked. "Shit, I'm surprised she even gave him the time of day." 

Derek shrugged. "Well, you know, he's a big movie star now. I guess she can forgive him for breaking her big brother's heart ten years ago." 

He didn't mean for it to come out as bitter as it did, but Erica stopped laughing and patted his shoulder. "I would say let it go, but that _was_ an epically dick move on his part." She squeezed his arm. "But hey, we had a pretty good time at prom without that asshole, right?" 

Derek smiled at the memory, and he tapped his beer against Erica's. "We did." 

Boyd reached around to clink his beer against both of theirs. "So, don't suppose you know any guys who'd be willing to play the boyfriend for a weekend?" 

Derek sighed. "No." 

Erica rolled her eyes. "If he knew any guys like that, he'd already have a boyfriend." 

Derek wanted to protest, but hell. It was true. He hadn't been on a date in years. It wasn't something that bothered him, but it did mean that his pool of potential candidates was more of a puddle. 

"Well," Boyd took a drink, "there's always Craigslist." 

Derek shuddered. "Oh God, no. I'll endure Mom and Cora's wrath before that." 

Erica lightly whapped Boyd upside the back of the head. "Ignore him. And don't worry, I know a couple of guys who can hook you up." 

Oh _no_. Derek swore he felt his eyes go to the size of dinner plates. "I'm not hiring an _escort_ for my sister's wedding, Erica!" 

She whapped _him_ upside the head. "Did I say escort? No. I didn't. But that's not a bad idea. We'll put it on the 'just in case' list. What I _meant_ was I know a couple of guys who run an online dating site. They also do private matchmaking for a fee. We can just explain the situation to them, have them set you up with some guys."

Derek stared at her. "You know two guys who do private matchmaking," he repeated, because he couldn't believe his ears. 

Erica nodded. "Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski. We went to high school with them, but they were freshmen when you two were seniors, so you might not remember."

Boyd frowned. "Stilinski...isn't that the sheriff's kid?" 

Now that he mentioned it, Derek had a vague memory of Stilinski and McCall from the lacrosse team. One had been gangly, pale, and hyperactive, with a buzz cut and a lot of moles, and the other had black floppy hair, olive skin, and a serious asthma problem. After ten years, he still wasn't a hundred percent sure which had been which, because they'd been attached at the freaking hip.

Erica had dug her phone out and was already tapping at it. "Yeah, that's him. I'll see if we can get a consultation set up. When's Cora's wedding again?" 

Derek groaned and rested his beer on his forehead. "One month. May eighth." 

Erica tsked and went back to texting. "So we need this set up yesterday."

"If we could go back in time and do that, I could stop myself from making up a fake boyfriend in the first place," Derek grumbled. 

Erica patted his head. "There there, don't worry. Auntie Erica will take care of everything." 

"That doesn't make me feel better," Derek said. 

Boyd snorted. "It shouldn't."


	2. See Derek Meet Stiles

Two days later, Derek stood in front of a small red brick building with a parking lot barely large enough to hold a half dozen cars. The sign on the glass front door said "Lobstr: An Online Dating Site" and, in smaller letters underneath, "Delgado Matchmaking Services."

Derek had never felt so skeptical of anything in his life. "Are you sure we're in the right place?"

"This is the address Stiles sent me," Erica said. "Come on, let's go in."

"I want it on record that I think this is a terrible idea, and I'm only going along with it because the alternative is getting strangled by my mother and/or sister."

"Noted, you big crybaby." Erica grabbed the front door and pulled it open. "After you."

Derek glowered at her as he stepped inside, but Erica had been immune to his glare for years. 

Inside, the place was...well, Derek wasn't sure what he'd been expecting from a company run by two of Erica's high school buddies, but it hadn't been good, and the exterior hadn't done much to change his opinion. But the chairs and sofa in the waiting room were nice leather, and the hardwood floor was dark and well-kept, with a colorful rug under the glass coffee table. 

"I expected more movie posters," Derek said.

"If Stiles had had his way, you'd have gotten them." Erica flopped down on the couch. "But the decorator vetoed them pretty fast."

"Yeah, so they're all in his office now," a new voice said.

Derek looked up to see a tan man with black hair and the beginnings of a goatee striding into the waiting room, a crooked smile on his face. 

Erica sprang to her feet. "Scott!" 

He grinned and dodged around a chair to sweep her into a big hug. "Hey, Erica. Stiles said you were coming over." 

"Well, it's been a long time. I had to check in on you." She stepped back and gestured to Derek. "This is Derek Hale, do you remember him?" 

Derek shuffled uncomfortably, already feeling awkward about the whole thing. 

Scott's grin never wavered, and he took a step closer to Derek, hand extended. "Hey, Derek, yeah! I remember you. Your sister Cora was in our class."

Derek shook Scott's hand firmly. "Scott McCall, right?" 

"Yeah." Scott beamed. "Well, Scott Delgado now. I changed it when I was eighteen." 

"Oh." If Derek had felt awkward before, it was nothing compared to now. "I, uh...sorry."

"Nah, it's all good. You couldn't have known," Scott said cheerfully. "Anyway, you're the one here for the consultation, right? Have a seat! Stiles'll be out here in a minute and we can get down to business. Can I get you two anything? Water, soda, coffee?" 

Erica sat back down on the couch. "Water would be perfect, thanks."

Derek opened his mouth to respond, when someone else came crashing into the waiting room, skidding like he was about to fall over and still somehow balancing four cups of water between two hands. 

"Don't worry, Scotty, I got you covered." The new guy set the water on the coffee table and wiped his hands on his jeans, then held out a hand to Derek. "Hiya. Stiles Stilinski, at your service."

If this was the same gangly, hyperactive kid from high school, Derek couldn't see it. Stiles had grown his hair out, dark and messy, and he wasn't quite the beanpole he'd been back then. He was still lanky, but he was at least Derek's height now, with broad shoulders and nice arms and distractingly long fingers and warm brown eyes that were almost as distracting as his fingers.

Derek hadn't been tongue-tied over meeting someone in nearly ten years. It was disconcerting. 

"Uh, dude?" Stiles said. 

That was what it took to remind Derek that Stiles was still waiting for him to shake his hand. God. It was like he'd forgotten all semblance of manners. He quickly grabbed Stiles's ( _warm, strong_ ) hand and shook. "Derek Hale."

"Derek, welcome to our humble abode." Stiles swept his free hand out to encompass the waiting room. "Now, Erica tells me you're in desperate need of a boyfriend?" 

The question brought Derek crashing back down to earth, and he slowly sank down to the couch, wishing all the while it would swallow him up. "Um. Yeah. I'd like to find a date for my sister's wedding." 

"In a month," Erica put in. "Because he told his ex he had one, and now his mom and sister are all excited that Derek's not a spinster."

Derek glared at her. " _Erica_."

She blinked at him innocently. "What? We need to give them all the information so they can help find you a guy." 

"It's totally cool," Scott said. "You have no idea how many people we get who want dates for weddings or school reunions or whatever." 

"And we're matchmakers." Stiles spread his arms. "This is what we do. We'll find you the guy of your dreams in four weeks or less, don't worry." 

Derek's instinct was to cross his arms and scowl, but he managed to keep his hands folded loosely between his knees, at the very least. "Look, I appreciate it, but I'm not looking for the guy of my dreams so much as the guy I can tolerate for 48 hours for the wedding."

Stiles and Scott stared at him like he'd grown a second head. "You came to a matchmaker and you don't want a match?" Scott asked. 

"I was just hoping you could give us a couple of profiles or something, and I could meet with the guys and see which one worked," Derek said. 

Erica covered her face with one hand. "Oh my God."

Stiles _continued_ staring at him like he was insane. "Dude, that is not how this works." 

Derek frowned. "But that's all I really _need_." 

"We have a month!" Stiles waved his hand around the group. "We can find you a boyfriend." 

That time, Derek did cross his arms and scowl. "I don't _want_ a boyfriend." 

Stiles narrowed his eyes. "Then why did you say you _had_ one?" 

_Because my ex-boyfriend can still get under my skin ten years later_. Derek pressed his lips together to keep the words from coming out. "Because we live in a society that thinks you're broken if you're single, enough so that we have an entire industry built around helping people find a match." 

Stiles sucked in his breath, eyes going wide like Derek had slapped him. "Well, if that's how you feel—"

Erica dug her elbow into his side, hard enough to hurt. "Derek. Be nice to the gentlemen who are trying to _help you_ out of your predicament." 

Derek set his jaw and rubbed his ribs. "Sorry."

Scott jumped to his feet. "Hey Erica, did I tell you Allison and I got our engagement pictures in? You should come take a look." 

"But—" Erica began. 

Scott grabbed her arm. "Great, come on! Stiles can take care of Derek." 

Before Erica could say anything else, Scott was dragging her out of the room, and Derek was left alone with a clearly angry Stiles. 

He dug his fingers into his thighs and looked off into the corner of the room. "Look, I'm sure you guys have a lot of other clients who really need your help."

Stiles snorted. "And you don't?"

"I told you, I don't _want_ a boyfriend." God, Derek was starting to feel like a broken record. "I like my life the way it is. I have great friends, my family's amazing, and I have a job I love. It's just that nobody _else_ seems to believe I'm perfectly happy this way." 

Stiles scratched at his chin, brow furrowing. "So are you aro?" 

Derek blinked. "A what?" 

"Aro? Aromantic? On the aromantic spectrum somewhere?" 

Derek shook his head. "What? No."

"So you do experience romantic attraction?" Stiles asked. 

"Yes." 

"Do you see yourself with a relationship at some point in the future?" 

Derek shrugged. "Well, yeah, at some point." 

Stiles leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "Then why _not_ now? Hell, you need a date anyway. Why not find someone you actually want to be with?" 

Derek rolled his eyes. "Because no matter how hard you look, you aren't going to find someone who wants to be with _me_ , all right? I've done the online dating thing before, I've filled out those little profiles." He waved it away. "It's all bullshit."

Stiles let out a long, low whistle. "Holy shit, dude. On a scale of one to ten, with one being amicable and ten being Pompeii on Volcano Day, how bad have your relationships been?" 

"The relationships weren't bad," Derek muttered. The breakups, of course, were another story entirely, but he wasn't discussing that with Stiles. "It doesn't matter." 

"I think it does."

The words rankled him, and Derek glared into the corner of the room. "No. It doesn't. And I thought I was coming to a matchmaker, not a relationship counselor."

"You'd be surprised at how often we need to be both." 

Derek fixed his glare on Stiles.

After a long moment, Stiles groaned and raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, _fine._ I'm not going to ask you more about your past relationships, although I think that would shed a _lot_ of light on things. However, it's your prerogative whether you tell me or not." He leaned forward. "But what I can tell you is this. People pay me a lot of money to help them find someone they mesh with, and believe it or not, I'm good at it. Or, well, Scott and I are. There's someone out there for everyone, and I can help you find him."

Derek couldn't help the snort he made. 

Stiles's amber eyes narrowed. "Okay, asshole. How about a bet, then?"

"A bet?" Derek repeated. 

"Yeah, a bet. You don't think I can find you someone, I think I can." Stiles settled back in his chair and steepled his fingers, his amber eyes gleaming. "So. You give me something I can work with—fill out our initial form, let me craft a decent profile for you, all that jazz—and I _guarantee_ you, I will not only have you a date for your sister's wedding, I will find you someone you'll want to try a real relationship with."

"I'm not making a freaking _bet_ with you," Derek grumbled. 

"What's the matter, Hale?" Stiles smirked. "Scared I'll win?" 

"Yeah, like that's a concern." 

"Just scared in general, then?" 

He shouldn't rise to it. He _shouldn't_. Derek was nearly thirty years old, he wasn't going to get riled up by some snarky asshole who was too attractive for his own good. "Why would I make a bet? There's nothing in it for me." 

"Aside from the potential boyfriend?" Stiles said. "Fine. Are you Marvel, DC, or other?" 

Derek frowned. "Both. Where are you going with this?" 

"I have, in my office, an Avengers poster that has been autographed by the entire cast, plus Joss Whedon and Stan Lee. It is one of my most prized possessions." Stiles took a deep breath. "If you win—if I can't find you someone you actually want a relationship with instead of 48 hours of tolerance—I will give you that poster." 

Derek raised his eyebrows. "Seriously?" 

Stiles nodded, his face completely somber. "One hundred percent serious. However, if _I_ win, you have to make a video testimonial for our services."

Derek swore he felt the blood drain from his face. "Absolutely not." 

Stiles grinned like a damn shark. "So you're saying you think I can do it?" 

"That's not what I said—"

"So you're going to take the bet?" 

Derek just stared at him, at the determination on his face. It was ridiculous, making a bet on something like this. But something in him chafed at it, wanted to rise to the challenge, to prove something to Stiles. Derek wasn't sure what he wanted to prove, but by God, he wanted to prove it.

"Fine," he snapped. "You're on."

Stiles clapped his hands. "Excellent. I am going to find you the _perfect_ boyfriend."

***

That night, Derek got out an entire six-pack of beer to keep him company while he reviewed the profile questions Stiles had given him. It was just two pages of paper in a red folder decorated with white hearts, so achingly garish that Derek mentally bet himself twenty dollars Stiles had had a hand in the design. It just seemed like something he would do. 

Not that Derek was an expert on what Stiles would do. 

He didn't particularly want to fill out the profile, but that had been part of the arrangement; it wasn't like he could slack off now. Besides, an Avengers poster was on the line now, and by God, Derek wanted it almost as much as he wanted to prove Stiles wrong. 

Besides, the last time he'd filled out a profile, it wasn't like it had helped. Stiles could craft the best profile in the _world_ , and Derek would still end up single when all was said and done. He was painfully aware his looks were pretty much all he had going for him.

He flipped open the folder and took out the sheets of paper he was supposed to complete—he was kind of surprised they weren't doing it all online, but whatever. 

The first page had the standard questions he expected—name, age, what he was looking for, marital status, education, occupation, hobbies, whether he drank or smoked or had tattoos. The second page, on the other hand... 

_Talk about your ideal date._  
_Talk about your ideal partner._  
_Talk about your ideal relationship._  
_Of your hobbies, which are your favorites? Why?_  
_Are you satisfied with your job? Why or why not?_  
_What is your dream job?_  
_If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you live and why?_  
_List your three favorite books, movies, and bands, and why._  
_Star Wars: prequels or original trilogy?_  
_If Star Trek, please specify which Star Trek._  
_MARVEL OR DC and why?_  


Derek felt his eyebrows climb to his forehead. They wanted to know which version of Star Trek he preferred? He'd hoped to just be checking off boxes, not writing essays on his personal tastes. 

He sighed and scribbled down a few answers, taking a nice, long swig of beer every time he managed to write a whole sentence without rolling his eyes. Thank God Erica and Boyd weren't here for this part. They'd have a field day, Erica especially. 

Derek could just _imagine_ Stiles writing out this personality profile for their company. Hell, he could imagine another few dozen nerdy questions ending up on the profile and Scott vetoing all but the handful that remained. 

He wondered whether Stiles preferred Marvel or DC, the Star Wars prequels or the original trilogy, or which version of Star Trek he got started on. 

_No_. Derek shook his head and shoved the answered profile back in its lurid folder. What did it matter what Stiles preferred? What mattered was whether he had the ability to do what he said he could do, and find Derek a date. 

Surely, _surely_ , they could find one guy in San Francisco who could stand being around Derek for a weekend. 

Surely.

***

Derek filled out the profile as promised and delivered it to Stiles the next day. He expected Stiles to give him shit over some of his answers, but instead, the whole thing was surprisingly professional. Stiles didn't even say a word over Derek's lack of hobbies.

"Okay," Stiles said, when they were through with the review. "Give me a couple of days, and I'll get in touch with you about your matches. You prefer call or text?"

Derek shrugged. "Either."

"Awesome," Stiles said, and that was apparently that.

Less than 48 hours after he'd dropped his profile off, Derek's phone beeped with a text from an unknown number.

From Unknown:  
**Hey dude! Found you a few good preliminary guys. You free tomorrow at three for coffee?**  
**With one of them, not me.**  
**This is Stiles, btw. If you didn't already figure that out.**

Derek rolled his eyes and saved the number in his phone. 

To Stiles Matchmaker:  
**Do you call all your clients dude?**

From Stiles Matchmaker:  
**Nah, just the ones it pisses off.  
Seriously. Tomorrow, 3 p.m., you free or not?**

To Stiles Matchmaker:  
**Sure, I'm free.**

From Stiles Matchmaker:  
**Awesome! Guy's name is Jackson Whittemore.**

Derek thumbed over to his calendar and tapped in the information before switching back to messaging.

To Stiles Matchmaker:  
**Anything I should know about this guy?**

From Stiles Matchmaker:  
**Went to Berkeley, drives a Porsche, knows more about wine and coffee than any human being probably should. He's a lawyer at a big firm downtown. He'll be wearing a gray suit with a blue shirt and a silver tie.  
Good luck! Let me know how it goes!**

The last line was punctuated with a giant smiley emoji and a thumbs-up sign. 

Against his better judgment, Derek felt his lips curl into a little smile, and even worse, a stupid tendril of hope unfurl in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to fauvistfly for giving me the name of the dating site. <3


	3. See Derek Date

The next day at three, Derek walked into the coffee shop, looking for a guy with an expensive suit who drove a Porsche. 

Two hours later, Derek slammed open the door to Delgado Matchmaking Services and stalked past the waiting room and down the hall. 

Scott poked his head out of an office on the left. "Oh, hey, Derek!"

"Stiles," Derek growled. 

The smile slid off Scott's face, and he pointed on down the hall. "Last door on your right."

Derek nodded a thank you. He wasn't entirely bereft of civil gestures. 

He was, however, going to need an alibi for murder because he was going to _kill Stiles_.

He didn't even bother to knock on the office door; he just barged in. 

Stiles jumped up from his computer, cursing. "Holy _shit_ , dude, what the—Derek?" Confusion on his face faded to understanding, and he sank back into his chair. "That is not the face of a man who had a good date." 

Derek seethed. "Could you possibly have found a _more_ arrogant asshole as my first date? I thought you had a bet to win." 

"Okay, yeah, he's a little stuck-up at first—"

"A little?" Derek clenched his fists. "He spent ten minutes talking about his car. After that, he spent _twenty_ minutes talking in depth about every celebrity he's ever worked with, and after _that_ , it was a long ramble about that one time he was in a music video with LMFAO. And that's not counting the seven sexist comments he made to the barista while ordering our coffee." 

Stiles looked taken aback. "You _counted?_ "

"I felt compelled to tip her an extra two dollars for each one," Derek snapped. 

Stiles's face softened. "Aw, dude, that's really sweet!" 

All Derek could do was gape at him.

Stiles cleared his throat and looked away. "Right. Not the point." 

"You _think?_ " Derek paced the room. "And as if that weren't enough, he asked me if I'd like to take it to the bathroom." 

Stiles's eyes practically bugged out. "Wait, _what_?" 

"He asked me to blow him in the bathroomof the coffee shop," Derek repeated. 

Stiles rubbed his hands over his mouth. "Oh my _God_. Derek, man, I am so sorry." 

"If this is the kind of guy you're going to find for me, I'd have better luck with Craigslist." 

"Dude, _no_." Stiles leaned across his desk and lowered his voice. "The only thing you're going to end up with is a leading story on the nightly news."

Derek buried his face in his hands. This was just too much. "You have _got_ to be kidding me." 

"No, I'm not, man. Seriously. I have heard some _crazy_ stories about Craigslist." 

He was going to strangle him. Seriously. Derek had to shove his hands in his pockets to keep from punching Stiles in the face. "Yeah, well, I'm willing to take my chances."

"Look, I really am sorry. Jackson was a recommendation to us from a really good friend, and he wasn't _quite_ that much of a douche in our first few meetings." Stiles spun in his chair and started typing at his computer. "He's off your list completely. Next guy, Mason, he's good. I think he's psychologically incapable of being a douchebag. Scott cooed for five minutes straight after he met him. He's a little younger than you..." 

Oh _hell_ no. "How much younger?" 

"Twenty-one," Stiles said. "He _is_ still in college, but you did say you didn't mind younger guys on your profile." 

All right. Twenty-one wasn't quite as bad as Derek had feared. "That should be okay," Derek said cautiously. 

"Awesome." Stiles grinned. "I'll get you guys set up, yeah?"

***

Over the next eight days, Derek went on more dates than he'd been on in the past eight _years_. 

There was Mason, who was _not_ a douchebag, but who got busted for having a fake ID when they went into the bar for drinks because he was all of _eighteen_ years old. And the school he'd just graduated from? Was high school, not college. 

(Stiles had cursed and muttered something about putting Scott through another class on spotting fake IDs when Derek had called to let him know about that.)

The date after that was with Alan. He was pretty quiet, which Derek didn't mind in the least, but after three hours all Derek knew about him was his last name and the fact that he was a vet. And that he really enjoyed giving cryptic answers to any question he was asked. 

(Derek still marked him down as a "maybe," because he could deal with quiet and cryptic for 48 hours. He was pretty sure, anyway.

"I've never seen someone so insistent that he's only a vet," he said when he called Stiles to do a post-date rundown. 

"Yeah, his background has pinged a few things," Stiles said. "Like, no details? But the kind of no details that makes you think if you learned the information, someone would have you assassinated. You should probably not go out on too many more dates with him."

Derek crossed Alan's name off the list.) 

Chris, the next guy, didn't have a problem with being quiet. He did, however, have a problem with being _very_ intense. Derek spent two hours feeling like he was going through a police interrogation, and Chris somehow managed to make picking out a _dessert_ a threatening gesture. 

("I've never seen anybody eat a cheesecake so aggressively in my life," he told Stiles later.

"Good thing he didn't get a brownie," Stiles said. "I've heard that's the same as sleeping with the fishes, but maybe I'm behind on my dessert-selection-to-mob-threats translator."

Derek laughed. He blamed the half a bottle of wine he'd had with dinner.)

Adrian was a high school chemistry teacher who was so condescending Derek had to leave the restaurant after less than an hour, pleading illness, because otherwise he was going to punch the guy in the nose and break his glasses. 

("He made our waitress _cry_ ," Derek said. "And he didn't leave a tip."

"I'm going to start sending you on dates just to check out how these guys actually act when they're not in front of someone they want to impress," Stiles said.

"Try it, and no one will ever find your body." 

"Aw, you sweet talker, you.")

Liam was another younger guy who was _actually_ twenty-one, a model, and perhaps the only other person to give Jackson a run for his money in the douchebag department. He spent half the date talking on the phone with his agent and the other half texting. Or maybe live-tweeting the date; Derek wasn't sure. 

("You should set him and Jackson up. They can have an asshole competition," he grumbled to Stiles on the phone after he left the restaurant.

Stiles laughed, and then trailed off. "You know, that might not be a bad idea. If it works out, I'll give you five percent."

Derek facepalmed.) 

After Derek walked away from date number twelve (with some dickhead who would not shut up about how he was in the FBI) wiping chocolate fondue off his favorite shirt, he was faced with the sudden realization that he was two weeks from the wedding date and no closer to finding someone to take. 

Boyd kept him company in the laundry room, grading papers while Derek did a load and hoped the chocolate would come out of the fabric. 

"You going to go on any more dates?" Boyd asked. 

Derek narrowed his eyes at the washing machine. "I think beating my head against a wall for two weeks might be just as effective."

"And yet you keep going," Boyd said evenly. 

"If I quit, the bet's off, and I still won't have a date for the wedding," Derek said. "Which was the point of this whole ridiculous exercise in the first place."

Boyd snorted. "You're telling me you're going to keep putting yourself through torture by matchmaking just to win a bet with Stiles?" 

Derek shrugged. "It'll be worth the look on his face when he has to hand it over." 

"Right." Boyd set down his pen and regarded Derek for a moment. "You know, Stiles is bi." 

Derek raised an eyebrow. 

"And single," Boyd continued. 

Of course _he_ would end up with the single matchmaker. Derek let his head rest against the concrete wall of the laundry room. "That figures." 

Boyd sighed heavily. "So when's the next date?" 

Derek checked the calendar on his phone. "Tomorrow night. Fancy restaurant downtown, with some guy named Peter Cox who's supposed to be wearing a red rose with his black suit. Stiles says he's pretty hot." 

"Well, if _Stiles_ says," Boyd said, and went back to grading papers.

***

The next night, Derek arrived at the restaurant a little early, tugging at his tie as he walked in. He wasn't a stranger to fancy places like this, but getting _this_ dressed up for a first date seemed a little much. 

He was already mentally composing his post-date rant to Stiles when he turned into the dining area and spotted a man with a bright red rose pinned to his black suit.

And it most definitely wasn't Peter _Cox._

Derek choked on nothing and fumbled his phone out of his pocket to send Stiles a text.

To Stiles Matchmaker:  
 **PETER IS MY UNCLE.  
**

He looked for an escape route—maybe he could hide in the bar?—when Peter's eyes landed on him and promptly doubled in size.

Then he doubled over in laughter.

Well, there was nothing for it now. Derek stalked over to sit down and scowled at his uncle. "Peter Cox, I presume?"

Peter wiped tears away from his eyes. "So _you're_ the sexy young gentleman I'm supposed to be meeting for dinner. This is too good." 

" _Cox_ ," Derek repeated. "You used a fake name?"

Peter waved it away and took a sip of his wine. "Oh, come on, Derek, no one uses their real name for any of this. Except you, apparently. Want me to order you a drink?"

Derek let the dig slide. "Does Aunt Jen know you're here, picking up guys half your age?" 

Peter's smile went sharp. "My dear nephew, Aunt Jen helped me craft my profile. After all, this _is_ part of her tenth anniversary gift from me." 

_Oh God_. Derek's mind went racing at the implications of _those_ words, and he closed his eyes in an effort to stop himself from reaching the inevitable conclusion. "Never mind. I don't want to know."

"But you _asked_ , Derek, and you know how I hate to leave a question unanswered." Peter sounded positively gleeful. "So several weeks ago, Jen and I sat down to discuss our anniversary, along with some ideas we had for spicing—"

Derek thudded his head on the table. "Please shut up." 

"But enough about me," Peter said. "What are _you_ doing here? I was under the impression that you had a significant other already." 

A dawning horror crept over Derek, and all he could do was gape, trying to find some plausible explanation for why _he_ was on a date when he had supposedly had a boyfriend for six months. 

His face must have given something away, because Peter's grin looked like that of a five-year-old who'd been taken into a candy store and told to go nuts. "Why, Derek. Are you seeking a date for Cora's wedding? Did you _lie_ to your little sister about your relationship status?" 

Derek ground his teeth. "Please don't..."

"Don't what? Tell?" Peter laughed again. "Why would I tell? My God, this is going to be like watching my own personal train wreck. And my birthday's not for another three months! You really shouldn't have." 

"I hate you," Derek grumbled. 

Peter didn't seem to be bothered in the least. "Yes, I imagine you do." 

" _Derek!_ "

Derek jerked at the sound of his name, and spotted Stiles skidding into the restaurant, looking shockingly out of place in his plaid shirt and Converse sneakers. He scrambled over to their table. "So. Hi. You must be Uncle Peter." 

"Indeed I am." Peter dragged his gaze over Stiles. "Good to see you again, Stiles. Interesting that you'd come running all the way down here to check on our date. Or did Derek call you?" 

"Wow, one, that was the creepiest look I've ever had the displeasure of being on the receiving end of," Stiles said. "And two, I'm a very hands-on matchmaker, I'll have you know. Especially when a client asks me to be." 

Peter's eyebrows went up, and he turned back to Derek. " _Really_. You don't say." 

Derek shoved out of his chair. "Goodbye, Uncle Peter. Have a good night." 

He stalked out of the restaurant, but it wasn't fast enough to miss Peter's response. "Good night, Derek! See you at the wedding!" 

He made it halfway to his car before Stiles caught up with him. "Hey, Derek! Dude, wait up!" 

Derek whirled around, and Stiles skidded to a stop. "My _uncle_ , Stiles? Really? This might actually be worse than the Jackson date." 

To his credit, Stiles ducked his head sheepishly. "I'm sorry, man. Seriously, I swear I don't usually have this much trouble setting up one person's dates. Let me take you out to dinner, make it up to you." 

Derek blinked, his heart suddenly beating too fast. "What?" 

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck. "Look, I feel terrible that you've had so many epically shitty dates. You're already dressed up, I'm out here, just let me buy you dinner or something."

Derek glanced at the restaurant they'd just vacated. "You want to buy me dinner here?" 

"What?" Stiles looked back behind him. "Oh, no! No, God no, dude. I'm pretty sure the maître d' was about to run me out of there for walking in with jeans on. Nah, there's a diner, like, three blocks north of here called Joy's. I go there all the time. Great burgers, better curly fries, and milkshakes that are either orgasmic or a religious experience. Possibly both." He blinked at Derek with wide amber eyes and gestured down the street with his chin. "What do you say?" 

Derek could say "no." He could say "I should just go home and get some rest." He could say "This is stupid and I'm done and I don't care if I lose the bet or make my sister cry." 

Instead, he found himself nodding. "Yeah. Sure. Burgers sound good." 

Stiles's face melted into a relieved grin. "Awesome. Just follow me right this way, my good sir, to your taste buds' absolute delight." 

Derek rolled his eyes. "Don't oversell it." 

Stiles scoffed. "Absolutely impossible."

***

Joy's was one of those hole-in-the-wall diners that Derek was pretty sure people only heard about through word of mouth. If he hadn't been with Stiles, he'd have missed the entrance entirely. 

Stiles pushed open the door and swept one arm inside. "After you, good sir." 

Derek rolled his eyes and hoped the heat he felt in his cheeks wasn't visible through his beard. "You don't have to be so ridiculous." 

"I live to be ridiculous," Stiles said easily. 

"We're not on an actual date," Derek reminded him. 

Stiles held up a finger. "That, my friend, is where you are wrong. This is indeed an actual date, or rather, it's an actual 'make-up' date, wherein I make up for all the terrible dates you've been on. Because, believe it or not, I am _excellent_ at dates." 

Derek's eyebrows tried to climb into his hairline. "Really." 

"Hey, just because I'm single doesn't mean I don't know how to treat a date," Stiles retorted. 

Without waiting for a waiter, Stiles led Derek over toward the back of the restaurant and slid into a red upholstered booth.

Derek looked around uncertainly. "Shouldn't we have waited?" 

"Nah." Stiles pulled out the menus from behind the ketchup bottle. "I came here for, like, four months before Jess—that's Joy's granddaughter, and she owns the place now—just told me to seat myself and save her the trouble." 

As if on cue, a waitress sauntered up to their table. "Stiles, it's been awhile." 

He beamed up at her. "Hey, Danielle! I brought a friend." 

Danielle gave Derek a once-over. "Damn, I need friends like yours." 

Derek looked away so no one could see his blush, but he was pretty sure he wasn't fooling either of them. 

"Aw, he's bashful." Danielle sounded _delighted_ about it. "I like 'em bashful." 

"Come on, give him a break. He's never been here before so we're going to need two strawberry lemonades to get started, okay?" Stiles said. "Oh, and the fried mushrooms." 

"And your usual?" 

"Just give us a minute with the menus." 

Derek looked up in time to see Stiles wink at her. Danielle snorted and tucked her pad back into her apron. "In your dreams, Stilinski." 

"That hurts me!" Stiles called after her, but she was already walking away. 

"Friend of yours?" Derek asked. 

"Danielle's first day as a waitress was my first day as a customer," Stiles explained. "I like to think we bonded. So," he spread his hands across the table and grinned, "welcome to my domain. Many a late night was spent at this table cramming for finals, let me tell you."

"Oh?" Derek asked. "Those difficult matchmaking finals?"

Stiles jabbed a straw in his direction. "First, that was uncalled for. Matchmaking can be a very stressful but also very rewarding job. Second, I went to Berkeley, asshole. Majored in criminology."

Derek couldn't conceal his surprise. "How in the hell do you go from majoring in criminology to running a matchmaking service?" 

"Well, we were already kind of running it before college," Stiles said. "So Scott and I just kept it up as a way to get some extra cash. After we graduated, the job market for both of us was shit, but the matchmaking and dating stuff was going pretty well, so we got a friend of ours to help us build a website and just decided to do that full time until we get our loans paid off." Stiles gestured to the table. "And here we are." 

Derek blinked. "Wait, you were doing this in high school?" 

Stiles nodded. "Our senior year in high school was Operation Get Our Parents Together Before The UST Suffocates Us Both For the Love of God, or OGOPTBTUSTSUBFTLOG."

Derek stared at the gibberish Stiles rattled off like it was nothing. "Was that even English?" 

Stiles stuck out his tongue. "Scott told me I wasn't allowed to name anything else after that. Anyway, yeah. Our parents had been stumbling around in this weird 'we like each other but we're not dating' dance for, like, our entire high school career, and so finally senior year we'd both had enough and decided to facilitate."

"Facilitate?" Derek asked. "You sound like a mob boss."

"Something like that!" Stiles said cheerfully. "We both told our parents separately that we were totally okay with them dating again, and not-so-subtly suggested they get coffee or something because they acted like teenagers together. And when that only kind of worked, we signed them both up to chaperone prom." Stiles gave a little fist pump. "They were dancing by the last song. Our first successful match."

"Are they still together?" 

Stiles gave him a thumbs-up. "Got married right after we graduated college. It was awesome. Also made for a great testimonial for our shiny new dating website."

Derek chuckled. "Of course it did." 

"Okay! We should look at the menus, or well, I guess you should, since I'm pretty sure I have it memorized." Stiles laughed a little and rubbed the back of his neck. "Which probably isn't something I should brag about."

"Eh." Derek shrugged and opened his menu. "I went to the Main Street Diner so much in high school they started making my order as soon as I came in." 

Stiles threw back his head and laughed loud at that, and _wow_ , his neck was long. Long and pale and pretty, and the sound of his laughter made Derek feel warm all over. 

Shit, he was staring. He dropped his gaze back to the menu and hoped Stiles hadn't noticed. 

Danielle returned with their appetizers and drinks and took their orders—bacon cheeseburger with curly fries for Stiles, regular cheeseburger with a house salad for Derek. 

"You're going to regret not getting curly fries," Stiles said. 

"I'm saving room for one of those orgasmic milkshakes." Derek set the menus back in their place behind the ketchup. "Besides, I'll just steal one of yours if I really want one." 

Stiles held up his fork threateningly. "Just try it, Hale. Take my fries and I'll take your hand." 

Derek snorted. "This how you treat all your dates? Threaten bodily harm?" 

"Only if they come after my curly fries."

***

Dinner was...good. There was really no other way to describe it. The food was delicious and Stiles was funny and previously Derek would have said that he didn't have any strong opinions on superhero movies, but apparently that went out the window where Stiles was concerned. They ate their burgers while arguing about which of the MCU Phases was the best (Derek said Phase One, Stiles said Phase Two, and there was no agreeing) and whether it would be possible to get a live-action Superman movie that actually captured the essence of the character. Stiles grabbed a pen and a napkin halfway through their milkshakes to scribble down a list of comic books that "dude, you have to read, I mean I'm not even remotely joking. How have you still not read Kamala Khan as Ms. Marvel?!" 

It was the most fun Derek had had on a date in years. 

And the nigh-pornographic moans Stiles made over the milkshake were...well, Derek wasn't sure if they were a bonus or if they were torture. 

Regardless, they made heat rush up the back of his neck and over his face, and he had to spend a lot of time looking at the table so Stiles hopefully wouldn't notice. 

In the blink of an eye, it was after ten, and the diner was closing, so Derek and Stiles were forced out to walk back to their cars. 

Stiles was gesturing expressively, regaling Derek with the story of his worst date ever. "So we're in the Preserve, right? And all of a sudden we hear this howling outside the Jeep and she starts _freaking out_. Like, kicking at me and trying to get her clothes on and run and I'm trying to get her to calm down and get out of my way so I can get back in the front seat and drive us out of there. And then a light shines through our windows and she's screaming about how the aliens are going to take us and we should never have come out here and she's going to die a virgin." 

Derek shoved his hands in his pockets and laughed at the mental image. "So who was it, really?" 

"Sheriff's department," Stiles said. "Actually, it was the sheriff." 

Derek choked. "Your _dad_ caught you parking in the Preserve?" 

"Oh yeah." Stiles rubbed his hands over his face and shook his head. "It was _mortifying_. He probably wouldn't have used the searchlight if he hadn't recognized my Jeep, but he wanted to teach me a lesson. I'm just grateful both of us had managed to get a few clothes on, because if he'd looked in the car five minutes earlier, I would never have been able to look him in the eye again." 

"Oh my God." Derek couldn't stop laughing. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be laughing, that's horrible." 

"Horrible at the time, absolutely hilarious now." Stiles grinned and bumped his shoulder against Derek's. "So what about you? Worst date you've ever been on?" 

Oh man. Derek had a frankly terrifyingly large pool to choose from, now. "In the past few weeks, or ever?" 

"Let's go with ever." 

_Great_. Derek tipped his head back to the sky, wracking his brain and trying to think of one that would match Stiles's for hilarity, but what came out of his mouth was, "Senior prom." 

Stiles frowned. "Senior prom? Seriously?" 

Derek shrugged, hoping he looked like it wasn't a big deal, hoping the tension he felt across his back didn't show. "My boyfriend at the time had this big night planned because it was our first anniversary. Fancy dinner, hotel reservation after the dance, limo rental, the works. He was supposed to come pick me up at five-thirty that night and he just...never showed." 

Stiles's eyes were huge. "Dude." 

Derek looked away, because he could only barely stand to talk about it now. "I waited for an hour before Erica called me to see where I was, because we were supposed to be meeting them before the dance for pictures. When I told her, she and Boyd were at my house fifteen minutes later to drag me with them. I didn't want to go, because I didn't want to third-wheel it, but neither of them would let me stay home and mope." 

"You have good friends," Stiles said. 

Derek nodded. "Yeah, I do." 

"So what happened with douchebro? I'm guessing it wasn't some hilarious thing where the limo broke down and left him stranded on the highway." 

Derek snorted. "No. I cornered him at school on Monday to ask what the hell was up, and he said he found another date to a different prom at the other high school in town. And she was more...interesting than me. Our relationship was too boring." Derek shook his head. "No, _I_ was too boring. Those were his exact words." 

Stiles gaped at him. "Holy shit, I don't even know this dude and I want to punch his face in." 

"You and Cora both," Derek said. "But it's not like he was wrong." 

Stiles stopped in the sidewalk and grabbed Derek's arm. "Wait, _what?_ You think you're boring?" 

Derek swallowed over the sudden lump in his throat. He hadn't talked about this with anyone, hadn't really planned on talking about it now, but it was just...coming _out_. "I am. I mean, I go to work, I go to the gym, I go home and read or write or watch TV. I have a routine and I _like_ my routine. I don't want to just...spontaneously drop everything to go to Hawaii for a weekend at a moment's notice, or road trip across the country without a few months' planning." 

He found himself shrugging again, like keeping his shoulders up would somehow protect him from what he was saying. "Everybody thinks I'm going to be interesting because of my job, or because of how I look, and after two dates they find out I'm just this quiet guy who'd rather stay in and eat Thai leftovers than go out clubbing."

"Dude," Stiles said again, mouth working like he wanted to say more, but nothing was coming out. 

Ha. He'd rendered Stiles speechless. Derek thought that was something he should take pride in. "Anyway. I'm okay with being boring. It's who I am. But nobody wants to date the boring guy." 

"You are _not_ ," Stiles said, mouth turning down in an angry slash and fingers digging into Derek's sleeve. 

Derek blinked at the vehemence in his voice. He certainly hadn't expected _that_. 

"So what if you like routine and prefer to stay in instead of go out? That makes you an introvert, it doesn't make you _boring_. You're dependable." 

Derek rolled his eyes. "Dependable" was just a nicer way of saying "boring." "Oh, yeah, because everybody's looking for _dependable_ in their relationships." 

"Well, the smart ones are, yeah," Stiles snapped back. "Knowing that someone's going to have your back, that they're always going to be there for you, that's fucking important for a relationship. And dude, just _look_ at you. You're funny, you're hot, you have a great relationship with your family, you have a steady job...you're the kind of guy who tips servers a shit-ton extra when they have to deal with jerks and you're modest and humble and don't even _realize_ how awesome you are, holy _shit_." 

Derek ducked his head, even though he was pretty sure it was dark enough Stiles couldn't see how red his face was. It had to be red, because it was _burning_. "You're...thanks. I appreciate it." 

Stiles dropped his hands and stared. "You don't believe me at all, do you?" 

Derek lifted a shoulder. "Back when I got out of college, I tried the online dating thing for the first time. Filled out a profile and set it to look at the whole country, because I wasn't sure where I was going for my master's. I didn't get any matches. At all. So three months later, I just sort of...took the profile down and I haven't really tried since. Didn't make much sense, you know?" 

"Derek, that was _one site_ and it was what, four years ago?" Stiles said. "You can't—"

"I know." Derek cut him off, because he didn't want to hear it. Erica had said it, Boyd had said it, and he'd tried to remind himself of it, but it just never clicked. He started walking down the block toward his car again. "I know, but...I don't know. Between that and my abysmal love life in college, it just didn't seem worth it to keep trying." 

Stiles swung around in front of him, stopping him short again. "Okay, look. You cannot let your entire... _perception_ of yourself as a romantic partner be framed around your terrible asshole dickbag of a high school boyfriend and whatever college relationships you had. Okay? You're awesome, and one of these days, you're going to find someone who recognizes that and fucking appreciates it. And by God, I'm going to be there when you do."

Derek wanted to laugh it off, but Stiles was so clearly serious that the amusement died in his throat. "You just want to get me to make a video testimonial for you," he said, trying to keep his voice light. 

"No. Well, not just that," Stiles said. "I...you're cool, dude. I like you. And I want you to be happy." 

Derek's heart stuttered at the words _I like you_. As a friend, he reminded himself. Friend and client, not anything else. "I," he started, and then had to wet his throat. "You're not so bad yourself." 

"Not so bad, he says." Stiles snorted. "Come on. Scale of one to ten, how was this date? Did you have fun? Be honest with me. One being senior prom and ten being the date that ends in a threesome with your two favorite celebrities." 

That time, Derek couldn't stop the bark of laugher he let out. "Oh, on that scale? Six. Maybe a seven." 

"Oh, come on! That's it?" 

"Well, it's not going to end in a threesome with my two favorite celebrities," Derek teased. 

"Oh, you fucker," Stiles said, but he didn't sound mad. In fact, he sounded almost fond. "Fine, fine, I'll accept a seven. But soon, _soon_ , you're going to have a ten." 

"You sound terrifically sure about that." 

Stiles grinned. "I'm good at what I do."

They slowed to a stop, and Derek realized they were back outside the first restaurant, next to his car. And, with a quick glance at his watch, he saw it was nearly midnight. "Holy crap, it's late." 

"It is?" Stiles dug his phone out of his pocket. "Oh, crap, it is. Sorry, dude, I really didn't mean to keep you out this late."

Derek got out his keys and unlocked his car, to give himself something to do. "It's okay. It was fun. I had fun. Do you need a ride to yours?" 

Stiles shook his head and gestured down the street. "Nah, I'm not that far. Besides, it's a nice night for walking." He stuck out his hand. "A pleasure, Mr. Hale." 

Derek took his hand to shake it, and the way Stiles's fingers wrapped around his hand sent a shiver up his spine. "The same, Mr. Stilinski." 

To his surprise, Stiles didn't let go. Instead, he lifted Derek's hand to his mouth and brushed a kiss across his knuckles.

_Holy shit_. If the handshake had been a shiver, this was electricity, sharp and static, jumping all the way from Derek's hand up his arm. All he could do was stand there with his mouth open. 

Stiles squeezed his hand once, then stepped back and winked at him. "Have a good night, Derek." 

He started to walk away, sauntering down the street, when Derek finally got his mouth working again. "Stiles." 

Stiles spun on his heels. "Yeah?" 

Derek made himself smile, and hoped it didn't show everything. "This was the best date I've ever had." 

Stiles's face lit up, and then he did the most ridiculous boogie dance right there on the sidewalk. "Aw yeah, Stilinski's still got it." 

Derek rolled his eyes, but he couldn't manage to get truly irritated about it. "You're completely ridiculous." 

"Ridiculously _awesome!_ " Stiles yelled back. 

Derek just shook his head and got in his car, giving one last wave. Stiles returned it, and started jogging down the sidewalk toward where he'd presumably parked. 

Derek rested his head against the back of his seat for a few minutes before he put the key in the ignition. Best date he'd ever had, and it was with his freaking matchmaker. The first person to actually make him _laugh_ , and it was his matchmaker. Because of course it was. 

He sighed and headed home. He could sort out all these stupid feelings later.


	4. See Derek Meet Danny

The next morning, Derek woke up to a series of texts on his phone. 

From: Stiles Matchmaker  
**Hey dude, I've got you another date!**  
**Remember that guy I was telling you about last night, the one who built our website? His name's Danny, and he's been pestering us about finding him a dude.**  
**He's 10 kinds of hot and 10 kinds of NOT A DICK.**  
**You want me to set something up?**

For some reason, the words made Derek's heart sink. Why was he upset? This was why he'd _hired_ Stiles, wasn't it? He should be...well, maybe not ecstatic, but at least a little happier about it. 

He replied anyway.

To: Stiles Matchmaker  
**Sure. Sounds good.**

From: Stiles Matchmaker  
**Awesome! I'll send you the deets later.  
**

To: Stiles Matchmaker  
**I can't believe you actually typed "deets."**

From: Stiles Matchmaker  
**Dude, you're lucky I'm using complete sentences.**

Derek snorted and tossed his phone aside. The date probably wouldn't be today, and it was a Saturday, so he had some time to get some stuff done. 

Like figuring out why he was so hung up on his date with _Stiles_.

***

Stiles texted him later that day with the information: he'd be meeting with Danny Mahealani the next afternoon for coffee. Derek put the time in his calendar and let Stiles know he'd received the message. Stiles texted him back "awesome!" and "Hopefully this one will be at least a six. ;-)"

Derek immediately went to the gym to work out, because he had to do _something._

It hadn't even been a date; it had been a practice date. A pity date, Stiles just taking him out to dinner to make up for the fact that he'd been set up with his _uncle_. He was a client, and Stiles was his matchmaker. It was stupid to get so worked up about it, stupid to get so worked up over a handshake. 

_Then what was that kiss on the knuckles?_ His mind asked helpfully. 

Derek scowled. The kiss on the knuckles was Stiles being Stiles. Stiles being ridiculous. It hadn't meant anything, and making it mean something was just a recipe for heartbreak. 

No, he was going to forget about it and focus on this Danny guy. If Stiles was actually friends with him, then there was a good chance he was less of an asshole than the other guys Derek had been on dates with. It would probably be fine, or at least fine enough that Derek could stand to be around the guy for a weekend. Then they could call it off after the wedding and Derek could collect his Avengers poster from Stiles and everything would go back to the way it had been before Derek had stuck his foot in his mouth with Jordan. No more bad dates, no more post-date wrap-ups with Stiles, no more text conversations or movie discussions or anything. Everything would be back to normal.

Why didn't that hold the same appeal it had just a few days ago?

***

Derek got to the coffee shop five minutes early, to scope the place out and also to grab a table near the exit. Just in case he needed a fast escape route. He hoped he wouldn't, but hell, at this point, it was better to be safe than sorry. 

His phone buzzed with a text as he was standing in line for coffee, and he pulled it out. 

From: Stiles Matchmaker  
**Good luck!! You'll be great.**

Derek bit his lip and texted back a quick "thanks" before putting his phone away. He didn't need to think about Stiles right now, not when he was already nervous about meeting Danny. He swore he could feel the nerves crawling up and down his back. 

The barista called out his order, and Derek went up to get it when tan guy with ink-black hair and a wide smile stepped up to him. "Derek Hale?" 

Derek grabbed his coffee and raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?" 

The guy held out his hand. "I'm Danny. Stiles's friend." 

"Oh!" Derek juggled his coffee to his other hand so he could shake Danny's. "Nice to meet you." 

He half-expected a shiver up his spine, but it was just like...shaking a hand. Perfectly normal, nothing extraordinary about it. 

Danny smiled wider. "Yeah, it's good to meet you too. Stiles has a lot of good things to say about you." 

"Really?" Derek heard the skepticism in his own voice and had to fight not to wince. 

"Don't sound so surprised." Danny gestured at a nearby table, and Derek took a seat. "He's been really gung-ho about you. I've never heard him talk about a client so much." 

Derek blinked in surprise, not really sure what to say. Stiles had talked about him to his friends? Repeatedly? He bit back the impulse to ask what Stile had said. "He spoke very highly of you, too. Said you helped them get their website going?" 

"Yeah." Danny's smile took on a self-deprecating tint. "I'm a programmer and developer, and I've been dicking around with computers since I was in middle school. Lucky my hobby turned out to be something I could make money with." He shifted in his seat. "Sorry. Normally I say the word 'programmer' and people's eyes sort of glaze over." 

Derek laughed. "Believe me, I understand that. Writing for a magazine really isn't all it's cracked up to be." 

"Oh yeah?" Danny leaned forward. "Why don't you tell me about it?"

***

The date was better than good. It was _great_. Danny was easygoing and down-to-earth, in addition to being as attractive as promised. Their conversation flowed throughout two cups of coffee and a croissant, talking about work and family (Danny had a younger sister as well) without even a hint of awkward silence. And when Derek haltingly explained just why he'd been looking for a boyfriend so aggressively, Danny laughed and patted his hand sympathetically, and admitted he'd probably have done the same thing if he'd been in Derek's place. 

He was really, really perfect, almost frighteningly easy to get along with. It was equally easy for Derek to ask if Danny would accompany him to the wedding, and Danny said yes with a genuinely happy grin. 

They exchanged phone numbers, shook hands, and Danny kissed Derek on the cheek before they parted ways. 

Usually, Derek called Stiles as soon as he was out of the date to talk about it. This time, he waited until he'd reached his apartment. His stomach twisted at the thought of making the call. 

Which was _stupid_. This was what he'd wanted at the beginning. He had a boyfriend who was going to be perfect with his family for the wedding weekend. He was _relieved_ that all of this was over. 

Yes. Relief. That was the word for it. 

Derek resolved to quit putting it off, and picked up the phone to call Stiles. 

Stiles, as usual, answered halfway through the second ring. "Derek! How'd it go? Good date? At least a six?" 

Derek shook his head at the questions, allowing himself a little snort of amusement since Stiles couldn't see. "Yeah. Good. Great, even. Danny's great." 

"Told you." Stiles was probably smirking. Derek could hear it in his voice. "But yeah, that's awesome! You guys going to go out again?" 

"I asked him to go to the wedding with me." Why did he feel so weird about saying that to Stiles? "He said yes. We're going to go get dinner tomorrow." 

"Wow. That's...that's fantastic, Derek!" Stiles said. "No more bad dates, right?" 

No more bad dates, that was the truth. No more bad dates and meeting people he didn't know and making late-night, ranting phone calls to Stiles about them. It was a relief to have that part over. "Yeah, thank God. I don't know what I'll do with all my free time." 

"Catch up on your reading list? I've got some comics you should _definitely_ try." 

Derek made a face at the telephone. "My reading list is long enough, thanks."

For the first time since they'd met each other, the silence on the phone stretched, uncomfortable and unwieldy. 

"So," Stiles said, after what felt like ages of dead air, "guess this is it. You've been matched."

"Yeah." Derek's mouth felt like ash. "Guess that means you get your video testimonial." 

"Oh. Yeah, don't...don't worry about that. I'm just glad you found someone." Stiles cleared his throat. "Look, um, I've got another meeting coming up here, so I've got to let you go. You can call Scott about the billing stuff, okay?" 

"Okay." Derek felt suddenly panicked, clutching at his phone like it would somehow keep them connected. "Stiles." 

"Yo?" 

"I...It wasn't all bad," Derek admitted. "Some of it was fun. You're...you're good at this." 

_I had fun with you, I'm going to miss you_ , why the _hell_ was that so hard to say?

"Thanks," Stiles said, but his voice sounded oddly flat. "Anyway. I really need to go. Good luck with Danny, okay? I'll see you guys at the wedding." 

Derek startled at the phone. "Wait, what? You're going to the wedding?" 

Stiles snorted. "Yeah, dude. Lydia's been one of my best friends since high school. I'm one of her bridesmaids. Or bride's man. I don't know. She's got me in a pink bowtie and vest." 

"Lucky she didn't get you in a flower crown," Derek said. "That's what Cora's got for Laura and Erica." 

"Oh _shit_." Stiles sounded horrified. "God, I hope Lydia didn't get any ideas." 

Derek thought about Stiles in a pink bowtie and a flower crown, and had to shove his hand in his mouth to keep from laughing. "I think you would look beautiful." 

"If you laugh at me, asshole, I swear to all that's holy I will find you and pin that crown to your head as soon as the ceremony's over."

"Just try it." 

"Oh, _believe_ me, I will, I—" Something clattered on the other end of the line, and Stiles cursed. "Shit, I gotta go. See you later!"

"Yeah, later," Derek said, and then his phone beeped with the disconnected call. 

He sat and stared at the phone in his hands, trying to convince himself he didn't feel bereft at not seeing Stiles regularly anymore, and failing miserably.

***

After finally finding a date, Derek expected his life to settle down until the wedding. Instead, the next two weeks passed in a whirlwind. Two of the magazine's regular writers got sick, leaving Derek and Kira as the only two to pick up the slack for the deadlines. After six months of perfectly amicable wedding planning, Lydia was suddenly on the warpath, and Derek got an earful from Cora, Laura, _and_ Erica about it for three days straight. 

He and Danny made two more dates, one dinner alone and one a double date with Boyd and Erica, so that Danny wouldn't be subjected to meeting _all_ of Derek's friends and family at once. It went better than Derek could have anticipated—Erica was surprisingly well-behaved—but while Boyd was perfectly pleasant to Danny, he eyed Derek suspiciously throughout the entire dinner.

"What?" Derek demanded, when Erica and Danny had both left the table to go to the bathroom. 

Boyd shrugged. "Nothing. He's a good guy." 

"He is," Derek agreed. 

"You know Stiles is going to be at the wedding, right?" 

Derek shifted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable. "I know. What's that got to do with anything?" 

Boyd rubbed his thumb along the bridge of his nose and gave a familiar, long-suffering sigh. "Nothing, man. You just...don't be a dick, all right?" 

Derek hadn't ever been so confused in a conversation with Boyd. "I'm not—where is this coming from?" 

Boyd just gave him a flat look, and then shook his head. "Never mind, man. We'll talk later." 

Erica and Danny came back right then, of course, and they paid up and went their separate ways. Derek decided it would be better just to put Boyd's comment out of his mind. Besides, he wasn't going to be a dick. Why would he be a dick to Danny? Danny was great. 

He thought about asking Stiles—maybe _he'd_ have some insight—but shook his head. Stiles wasn't his matchmaker anymore. Stiles wasn't his _anything_ anymore. 

That reminder pained Derek more than he wanted to admit.

***

The first step in the Hale-Martin Wedding Weekend Extravaganza (thanks, Erica) was the rehearsal, which Derek did not have to attend, and the rehearsal dinner, which he did. With so many family members flying in from across the country, Derek had volunteered months ago to stay at a hotel and let someone else have his bedroom at the house, considering he only had to drive two hours to get there. He decided he'd been blessed with some kind of intuition on the matter, because this way he and Danny wouldn't be staying with his entire family. 

Dealing with them all for the rehearsal dinner, wedding, and reception would be hard enough. 

"So, in addition to my mom, dad, and sisters, you're going meet Laura's husband, Michael, then Uncle Peter and Aunt Jen, and my cousin Beth, and there's Isaac, who's basically an adopted brother—it's a long story—"

Danny laughed. "Derek, chill. I'm sure it'll be fine." 

Against all odds, it was. Danny got along swimmingly with every member of Derek's family, didn't even bat an eye when Mom and Laura cornered him with clear intent to interrogate. He extricated himself easily from Peter's not-so-subtle (and sufficiently creepy) overtures. Cora _loved_ him, gave Derek an exaggerated thumbs-up and forgave him for not telling her about his "boyfriend" for six months. 

Stiles wasn't there. Derek was strangely disappointed when he found that out, and then kicked himself for being disappointed when the whole "I have a boyfriend and he's not a total dickbag" thing was going better than he'd ever imagined it would, back when he'd first told Cora he'd bring someone to her wedding. 

In fact, the only hitch in the entire rehearsal dinner was when Cora grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out into the hallway. 

For one brief moment, Derek was terrified that she'd found him out. "Cora? What's wrong?" he asked, hoping he was keeping everything out of his voice. 

Her dark eyes were uncharacteristically wild. "I need your help." 

"What do you need?" Derek set his hands on her shoulders. "Are you okay? Is Lydia okay? What happened? Do I need to get you out of here?" 

The wild look in Cora's eyes softened, and she smiled. "Oh my God, _no_ , calm down. But I'm glad to know you'd do that for me." 

"You're my baby sister," Derek said. "I'd do anything for you." 

"Great!" Cora said cheerily. _Too_ cheerily. "Can you give a speech at the reception tomorrow?" 

Derek's jaw dropped. " _What?_ Cora, I can't give a speech! I thought Laura was!" 

Cora hugged herself and shrugged. "She can't, and she asked me—I told her it was okay, she didn't have to. But can you do it, please? Please?" 

"Why can't Laura do it?" Derek knew he sounded petulant, but he didn't care. He loved his little sister, but he hated standing up in front of crowds and talking, especially standing up in front of a crowd and talking about love.

Cora widened her eyes pleadingly. "She asked me not to say. She's not ready to talk about it yet, you know? But she's probably going to have to skip the reception. All that _food_ , you know." 

"Food? Why in the world would food..." Derek caught the significant look Cora was giving him, remembered how Laura had vanished before the food had been brought out earlier, and it all clicked in his head. "Oh my God _is she pregnant?_ "

"Sh!" Cora hushed him, but her eyes were gleaming. "She didn't want to say anything because it was my weekend, but she and Michael are going to tell everyone when Lydia and I get back from our honeymoon. However, the point still stands. She won't be at the reception, so can you _please_ give the speech instead? For me? For both your sisters?"

Derek groaned and rubbed his hand over his face, and then hugged Cora hard. "Okay. _Okay_. I'll do it." 

Cora squeaked and threw her arms around his neck. "You're the best. I owe you one. You can probably just read her speech if you want; I know she had note cards."

Derek grumbled, trying to sound put out, but really he was too happy for both of his sisters to complain much. 

Cora pulled away and poked him in the shoulder. "I really like Danny, by the way." 

"Oh?" Derek relaxed in relief. "Good. I'm glad. I do too." 

"I know, silly." Cora stuck her tongue out at him. "I can tell. I'm glad you found someone." 

_You have no idea_ , Derek thought, but kept it to himself. "Yeah, me too." 

"I mean, I _had_ been planning to set you up with one of Lydia's attendants, but I'm glad I don't have to do that." 

"You were _what?_ " Derek poked her back. "You were going to set me up with one of your wife's friends?" 

"Oh, it's not like you don't know him." Cora waved a hand. "Or at least you'd probably remember him. Maybe. We were only at high school together one year before you graduated, but he was on the JV lacrosse team. Stiles Stilinski? He's—" 

Hearing the name was like a punch in the gut. "Stiles?" Derek repeated hoarsely.

"Oh!" Cora sounded surprised. "So you do remember him?"

"He's friends with Erica," Derek said, which was totally and completely true and had absolutely no bearing on why he knew Stiles. 

"Yeah, Lydia thought you guys might be good together. But then," Cora elbowed him, "you went and got a boyfriend without telling any of us. I'm so proud. A little irritated I don't get to play matchmaker _for_ a matchmaker, but otherwise proud." Her brow creased. "You okay? You look weird." 

Derek gave her a look that he hoped conveyed his distaste. "Weird. I look weird. Thanks, Cora. Just for that, I won't give the speech tomorrow." 

"Aw!" Cora practically hung off him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please do it still?"

He rolled his eyes and gave a half-hearted attempt to shake her off, but at least she'd been distracted from asking about him. 

Derek would take it.


	5. See Derek Fall in Love

The wedding was lovely. Not that Derek expected differently, given how much time and effort Lydia had put into planning it, but it was one thing to know it and another thing entirely to see it. But he was paying far less attention to the decorations and far more attention to how happy Cora looked, fidgeting in her trim gray suit with the biggest smile Derek had ever seen on her face. 

But even so, he kept sneaking peeks at Stiles, standing on Lydia's side of the altar with the promised pink bow tie and vest, but no flower crown. Derek's heart gave a lurch every time his eyes fell on him, and he had to make himself look away. He was with Danny. Danny, who was smiling beatifically and gazing up at the wedding party without a care in the world, with no idea his date couldn't keep his eyes off another man. 

Derek shot a guilty look at Boyd, who was sitting on his other side, but Boyd hadn't taken his eyes off of Erica since she'd taken her spot between Laura and Isaac as one of Cora's attendants. Good. Derek didn't particularly feel like dealing with the judging look he'd inevitably have received. 

But then Lydia and Cora were holding hands, and repeating their vows, and...the only word Derek could think of to describe his little sister's face was _incandescent_. In front of him, his mom dabbed her eyes with a tissue and sniffled. 

Tears pricked at his eyes, and Derek ducked his head.

"Got damn dusty in here all of a sudden," Boyd mumbled next to him. 

Derek huffed a laugh. "Tell me about it." 

When he could brave looking at his sister again, Derek raised his head, only to meet Stiles's eyes. His first instinct was to glance away as fast as he could, but the eye contact hit him like a punch, and Derek might have gasped at the sensation.

He couldn't bring himself to break away, not when Stiles had his gaze fixed on him, a look on his face Derek couldn't decipher. Or maybe he just didn't want to decipher it.

It was suddenly very, very difficult to breathe.

Someone threaded fingers through his, and Derek looked to Danny, who smiled at him. He didn't say a word, just squeezed Derek's fingers again.

Derek made himself smile back, but his mind was still reeling from just one glimpse with Stiles.

God. Boyd was right. He was an idiot.

The officiant pronounced Cora and Lydia married just then, and the kiss and resulting cheer from the gathered crowd had Derek putting his own problems aside for just a few moments.

He grabbed Boyd as soon as they'd all made their way out of the sanctuary. "I'm an idiot."

The unimpressed look Boyd gave him told Derek he needed to be more specific.

"I...Stiles," Derek said helplessly, and Boyd groaned.

"Congratulations on finally catching up with the rest of us," Boyd said. "I say again: Don't be a dick."

"I'm here with _Danny_ ," Derek said, because he wasn't sure Boyd understood the gravity of the situation.

Boyd clapped him on the shoulder. "Yes, keep reminding yourself that. And now, I am going to grab my own fiancée and head to the reception, because I am not dumb enough to come to a wedding with someone I am not in love with."

" _Love?_ " Derek repeated, somewhat dumbly, but Boyd was already walking away. He couldn't be...it was _impossible_...they'd only known each other less than a _month_ , it wasn't—

Danny appeared at his shoulder right then. "Hey, something wrong?" 

_Yes. No. I don't know_. Derek pasted on a smile once more and slipped his arm around Danny's waist. "Everything's fine. Come on, we should get to the reception." 

"Good plan." Danny nuzzled his shoulder. "You ready to give your speech?" 

Derek froze. _Crap_.

***

The reception was at a country club only a few minutes from the church, and Derek managed to keep his thoughts occupied with worrying about his speech the entire way there and even as they went through the buffet line for dinner. He had Laura's notecards (which she'd given to him with a kiss on the cheek and a grateful hug the night before) and he'd made some changes, but his stomach still twisted in knots. He _hated_ speeches, hated public speaking, and this was Cora's _wedding_ _day._ He didn't want to fuck it up.

He was going to fuck it up. 

Boyd sat next to him and slid a drink across the table. "Drink that before you get up there. You look like you're going to pass out."

Derek glared over the notecards he was reviewing, but he took the drink and sipped. And then coughed, because his throat was on _fire_. "What the hell did you just give me?" 

Boyd's face didn't even twitch. "Jack and Coke. Emphasis on the Jack." 

Derek continued scowling. "You're a terrible friend."

Danny sat down on his other side. "Did you know there's an open bar?" 

Derek raised the glass of actual poison Boyd had given him. "That explains the hard liquor." 

Boyd took a sip of his own beer. "No, the panicked notecard reading explains the hard liquor."

"Don't worry so much about it," Danny said. "You're going to be fine. You love your sister. You'll do a great job."

Boyd nodded, and they toasted each other right in front of Derek's face.

None of this helped his nerves. "Neither of _you_ actually have to stand up and talk in front of," Derek glanced around the room, "two hundred people."

Boyd nudged the notecards with the beer bottle. "Don't focus so much on these. Just talk from the heart. You'll be fine." 

It wouldn't be good to stab his best friend with the tiny plastic drink stirrer, but Derek still had to talk himself out of trying. 

The wedding party arrived shortly thereafter, and Derek dove back into his notecards. If he was thinking about his speech, he wasn't thinking about Stiles, and the speech was the lesser of the two evils right about now.

He took another, longer sip of his drink, and grudgingly admitted Boyd had been smart in grabbing it for him.

Boyd and Danny poked him until he watched while Cora and Lydia cut the cake, and then as Lydia's sister Maddie gave her own maid of honor speech, funny and heartwarming. Derek couldn't help but glance at Stiles, seeing how he threw back his head and laughed with his whole body, how he leaned around to squeeze Lydia's arm and give her an affectionate grin.

Derek's stomach clenched again, and he downed his entire drink. Nerves over the speech. That's what it had to be.

As soon as Maddie was finished, it was Derek's turn. The only thing he really heard was the MC calling his name, and then saw Cora excitedly waving him up, and he stood to make his way to the microphone.

This was a terrible idea. He was going to screw it up, and Cora was going to regret even asking him to do this.

His fingers trembled on the notecards, and for a moment, he couldn't even read the words written on them.

His first instinct, strangely, was to seek out Stiles, sitting at the front table next to Cora and Lydia, and looking at him expectantly. Stiles smiled at him, a small, private thing, and Derek felt like they were the only two people in the room. 

He dropped his gaze to his notecards—Laura's notecards—and thought about Boyd's advice. 

_Just talk from the heart_.

Derek took a deep breath and folded up the notecards. "Three years ago, Cora came back home from a date with a high school friend of hers, looking like she'd been hit by a truck. I asked her what was wrong, and she said 'I'm going to spend the rest of my life with Lydia Martin.'"

The crowd tittered at that, and Derek waited until they fell quiet before he continued. 

"A few months later, when I met Lydia and saw how they were together, I realized she was right.

"All of us have relationships in our past that we'd rather not think about, dates that make us cringe, whose only redeeming factor is that they make a great story later. And when you're going through it, it's like...it's hell. It sucks, and all you want to do it just have it be over. And you spend nights wondering why you bother, why you're putting yourself through this torture.

"And then," Derek took a deep breath, "you meet a person who's different. You meet someone who looks you in the eye and tells you you're worth loving and for the first time, you believe it. They see all the sh—stuff you hate about yourself and somehow make it matter less. They make it a good thing that you are how you are, and everything just..." Derek trailed off, found his eyes flicking over to Stiles. "It just clicks," he finished. 

"And I'm just happy my baby sister has found that." He raised his glass and hoped no one noticed his hand trembling. "Cora, Lydia, here's to you. And congratulations. I love you both."

Derek stumbled back to his seat to the sound of applause, feeling a bit like he'd been hit over the head with a two-by-four.

_I'm in love with Stiles. I'm in LOVE WITH STILES._

He was well aware he was an idiot, but this just seemed to drive the point of it into his skull. He couldn't act on it now, not in front of his family and with Danny sitting right beside him. He'd just have to wait until they got back to the city, break up with Danny as gently as he could, and then go find Stiles and hope he hadn't completely ruined all his chances.

Of course, that plan lasted until he sat down and Danny turned to him, looking strangely serious.

"You weren't talking about me, were you," Danny asked quietly.

It took two false starts before Derek managed to speak, and even then, all he could say was "I'm sorry."

To his surprise, Danny didn't look angry or hurt or even resigned. He just leaned closer to Derek and nodded his head toward the front table. "Well. Tell me that blond guy is both single and gay, and all will be forgiven."

Derek followed the nod, confused, and smothered a laugh when he realized who Danny was talking about. "That's Isaac, he's pansexual, and yeah, he's very single."

Danny's eyes took on a scheming glint. "Hm. I appear to have had my heart broken. I think he would be very helpful in mending it."

Derek did laugh then. "Believe me, Isaac would be happy to. I'll send him over."

"I appreciate it," Danny said, and held out his hand. "Hey, good luck, all right? Stiles will never admit it, but he loves big romantic gestures."

Derek shook Danny's hand even as he felt his face burn. "Does everyone know?"

Danny chuckled. "Just the people who know you both well, I think."

"Good luck to you, too," Derek said.

He walked away, making his way along the edge of the dance floor until he caught Isaac's arm. "Hey, Isaac." 

Isaac frowned at him. "Yeah?"

"I'm breaking up with my date and I need you to go comfort him."

Isaac's jaw dropped, and then he looked from Derek to Danny and back again. "I feel like I should punch you," Isaac rested a hand on his shoulder, "but I also feel like I should immediately go comfort him with all parts of my body."

Derek gently pushed him toward the table. "I think he'd like that very much." 

He waited just long enough to watch Isaac pull out a chair and sit down next to Danny, and then Derek turned his attention to the front table, seeking Stiles. 

Stiles, who was no longer there. 

Derek scanned the crowd, hoping to find him, but he didn't see Stiles anywhere. Not on the dance floor, not in the buffet line, not at the bar. 

_Shit_.

Derek spotted Scott standing near the bar, and made a beeline over to him. "Have you seen Stiles?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant and failing miserably.

Either Scott didn't notice, or he decided to spare Derek's feelings by not commenting. "Yeah! He headed outside for some air. Said he'd be right back. Oh hey! Have you met Allison?"

"Soon as I get back, I promise," Derek said. "Thanks!"

He wove his way through the people, trying to avoid bumping into them but still finding himself on the receiving end of more than a few ugly looks. He apologized as best as he could and kept going.

Outside, the air was fresh and clean, cooler than expected, but then again, it was nighttime and spring hadn't fully turned into summer yet. Derek searched the parking lot, heart beating painfully in his chest, and spotted a lone figure silhouetted under a tree, lounging on a stone bench. 

Even from here, Derek recognized Stiles's slouch. It made his heart clench. 

He dragged up his courage, wished he had a drink to help him with that, and strode over. 

Derek had just stepped off the parking lot and onto the grass between him and the tree, when Stiles's head jerked up, and he jumped off the bench like he'd been electrocuted. He backed away and held up his hands. "Oh, no. No, no, no."

Derek stopped, heart plummeting into his stomach. _No_ was not a good start. "Stiles—"

" _No_." Stiles jabbed a shaking finger at him. "No, you don't get to do this. You're here with _Danny_ , for God's sake, and he's one of my best friends, and you don't get to just— _look_ at me like that and say things like that when you're here with someone else!" 

A hundred different responses beat at his mind, each demanding to be uttered first, but what came out was, "Danny's with Isaac right now." 

Stiles blinked at him, gaping like a fish. "He's _what?_ " he finally said, voice taking on a dangerous tone. 

Derek hadn't thought it was possible for him to screw this up more, but clearly he'd been wrong. "No, don't—he realized that I wasn't into him. That we weren't into each other. He asked me to introduce him to Isaac. So I did." He shoved his hands in his pockets and exhaled sharply, trying to put his thoughts in some order. "It wasn't—I shouldn't have—" 

Stiles continued to stare at him, unnervingly quiet. 

Derek's words clammed up, his courage fleeing into the night, and suddenly all he wanted was to be _anywhere_ else. It had been useless to hope Stiles returned his feelings, and he was the biggest idiot for thinking it was possible. 

He dropped his gaze to the ground and turned away. "Never mind. It's nothing." 

He'd barely taken a step back toward his car when a hand wrapped around his arm, pulling him to a stop. 

"No," Stiles said again. "No running away. Running away is bad. What is it? Why did you come out here?" 

Stiles wasn't holding him that tightly; Derek could easily jerk his arm away and leave. But he didn't. He couldn't.

Stiles squeezed his arm gently. "Derek." 

"I've spent almost ten years hating the thought of being in a relationship," he finally said, so quietly he wasn't sure Stiles heard it. "And the first time I didn't hate it was on the date with you. It just...took me awhile to realize what that meant."

"And what does it mean?" Stiles asked. 

Derek did pull his arm away then, but it was only so he could turn and face Stiles. "I—I like you," he said, and it felt like popping a bubble inside of him, both relieving and terrifying to have it out there. "And...I know you don't feel the same. I know it was just a practice date for you, and you probably have to do it for all your clients at some point, but—"

"Oh my _God_." 

Stiles grabbed Derek's suit jacket by the lapels and hauled him close. Derek hardly had a chance to register it before Stiles's lips were on his. 

Derek froze. 

Stiles was _kissing him_. Warm and soft and gentle and—

Stiles drew back, brow furrowing. "I didn't read that wrong, did I?"

Derek scrambled to bring his brain back online, and grabbed Stiles's elbows to keep him close. "No. No, you didn't. I just...I didn't think..."

"Yeah, I heard." Stiles laughed softly in the space between them. "You seriously thought I took all my clients out on practice dates?" 

Derek shrugged helplessly. "Yes?"

"You." Stiles shook his head. " _No_ , I don't do that for everyone. And if I did, I wouldn't take them to _Joy's_ , oh my God. I only do it for stupidly attractive, adorably awkward nerds who are so _freaking_ oblivious to their own charm that it makes me want to stab myself in the face."

There were a lot of other words there, but Derek's brain clung to _attractive_ and _adorably_ and _charm_. "You like me?" He couldn't keep the disbelief out of his voice.

Stiles dropped his head to Derek's shoulder, his own shoulders shaking with barely restrained laughter. Derek felt off-balance, like he'd been thrown into the deep end of a pool without any sort of floatation device, and all he could do was rub his hands up and down Stiles's arms.

"Yeah," Stiles finally said, lifting his head and beaming at Derek. "Yeah, I like you. You complete _dork._ " 

He supposed he ought to have been irritated at the name, but Stiles was smiling so brilliantly it was hard to be anything but stunned. "Oh," Derek said. 

"Yeah, _oh._ " Stiles canted forward, just a hair, just enough that his breath brushed Derek's skin. "Mind if I kiss you again?" 

Involuntarily, Derek's eyes dropped to Stiles's mouth, and his breath hitched. "No, I—I'd like that. To kiss you." 

"Good," Stiles said, and closed the distance between them again. 

This time, Derek was ready for it, or at least, as ready as he could be for Stiles's lips to slide over his, a little less soft this time but no less gentle, only more sure of their welcome. It sent a tingle through his entire body, the same tingle he'd felt when Stiles had kissed his knuckles, only it was compounded a thousand times now. 

His hands drifted from Stiles's arms to his waist of their own accord, but Derek took the opportunity to pull him closer, and groaned when Stiles's arms wound their way around his neck. Derek sank into the kiss, into the buzzing in his skin everywhere he and Stiles touched. 

When he reluctantly broke away for air, Derek kissed each mole along Stiles's jaw. "Hey, Stiles?" 

"Yeah?" 

Stiles sounded about as dazed as Derek felt. The thought made him smirk. "Just so you know...it's a little more than 'like.' My feelings," he added clumsily. 

Stiles smiled, small and fond, and Derek felt it wiggle into his heart and settle there. God, he was _so_ gone. 

"Yeah." Stiles kissed the corner of his mouth. "Same here."

***

Less than an hour later, Derek was stumbling through the door of his hotel room, trying to open it while keeping both hands and his mouth on Stiles. He crashed into the bathroom door and cursed, more at the shock of it than any real pain, and Stiles burst out laughing, long fingers digging into Derek's shoulders in an effort to keep himself upright. 

"Shut up," Derek grumbled, but it was hard to put much irritation into his voice when he was mouthing at Stiles's neck and trying to work his way under the stiff collar of his dress shirt. 

"You shut up," Stiles said, and he grabbed at Derek's ass. "Any chance of us being interrupted?" 

"No." Derek tugged away Stiles's pink bowtie and threw it across the room before tackling his shirt and vest. "Danny's staying with Isaac tonight. Room's all ours."

Stiles fumbled at Derek's belt and got it unbuckled. " _Awesome_." 

They didn't say much after that; Derek was concentrating too much on getting Stiles's clothes _off_ and getting his mouth on every inch of pale skin that he could. He mentally cataloged each one of Stiles's reactions: the breathless laugh when Derek's fingers danced across his ribs, the low moan when Derek nipped at his neck, the needy whimper when Derek thumbed over his nipples. Each noise went straight to his cock, which already strained against the zipper of his pants. 

It was beyond perfect. _Stiles_ was beyond perfect.

Derek kicked off his shoes and slacks and threw Stiles onto the bed before ducking down for a fast, filthy kiss. 

"You have," Stiles panted, " _no_ idea how long I've wanted to do this." 

"How long is that?" Derek asked. 

"Probably since the first time you walked into my office, being such a complete dickhead."

Derek growled a little. "I wasn't _that_ much of a dickhead." 

Stiles laughed, sudden and hard, and scratched his nails down Derek's back. "Dude, you were. You so were. I mean, I get it now, but then I just wanted to hatesex you up." 

Derek pressed his face into Stiles's neck. "Still want to hatesex me up?" 

"Mm, there's a lot less hate going on right now, let me tell you." Stiles kissed him again, that clever tongue making Derek see stars. "Condoms and lube?" 

Derek made to go for the bedside table, when he remembered he wasn't at home. He dropped his head next to Stiles's and swore. " _Fuck_."

"What?"

"I don't have _either_."

Stiles choked. "Oh my God, are you serious?" 

Derek groaned and tried to bury his face further into the pillow. " _Yes_. I wasn't planning on—I don't ever—I didn't pack—"

He was so used to packing for a trip alone that it hadn't even _occurred_ to him to bring anything. And now he had Stiles here, and Stiles was...

Stiles was laughing and petting Derek's hair. "It's okay, man. We'll just... _improvise_." 

He snuck a hand between them and ran his fingers up the length of Derek's cock. Derek didn't even recognize the noise he made. " _God_ , Stiles." 

"Like my improvisation?" 

Derek could _hear_ the fucking smirk in his voice, and lifted his head off the pillow to see Stiles staring at him with the most intense come-fuck-me eyes Derek had ever seen. 

Stiles stroked him again, and Derek's hips jerked forward, arms trembling now with the effort of holding himself up. "Stop." 

"What?" Stiles's face fell. "Did I—"

Derek kissed him quickly and sat back. "Sit up and give me your hand."

Stiles frowned, but did so. "What do you want my hand—"

Derek grabbed his wrist and licked his palm all the way up to the tip of his finger. 

Stiles's eyes went wide and his mouth fell open. "Holy motherfucking shit." 

Derek continued to lick his way over Stiles's palm and fingers, relishing in the stuttering breaths and small whines Stiles made with each swipe of Derek's tongue. He sucked two fingers into his mouth, letting his cheeks hollow out, and Stiles cursed so vehemently Derek had to fight back a smile. 

"You're a menace," Stiles said hoarsely. "Evil. I'm going to come in five seconds and it'll be your fault." 

Derek flicked his tongue across the tips of Stiles's fingers. "Kind of the plan, isn't it?" 

Stiles narrowed his eyes. "Oh, it's _on_." 

Derek felt his eyebrows climb, but before he could say a word, Stiles wrapped his spit-slicked hand around his cock and stroked him ruthlessly. It was all Derek could do to cling to him and curse, hips bucking up into Stiles's fist, his whole body practically on fire from the touch. 

He made to grasp Stiles's cock, but Stiles caught his wrist and kissed him hard. "Nope." He pressed a line of kisses against Derek's jaw. "I want to watch you fall apart." 

Derek glared and opened his mouth to argue, and then Stiles twisted his hand just so and the only thing that came out was a needy moan. 

"Yeah, that's right," Stiles murmured into his skin. "Let me hear it. I bet you're so fucking pretty when you come, oh my God, I want to see it. Can't fuck you into the mattress just yet, but when I do—" 

His mind flashed with that image, of Stiles holding him down and pounding into him, and that was all it took to push Derek over the edge. He hauled Stiles in and kissed him as he came all over Stiles's hands and stomach. 

Derek had to break away to breathe and curse, while Stiles chuckled and stroked him a few more times before finally letting go. 

Before Stiles could pull too far away, Derek wiped his hand through the mess on his stomach and then took Stiles's still-hard cock in hand. It was worth it from the way Stiles's eyes went wide and he let out a breathy " _Derek_."

Derek rested his forehead against Stiles's shoulder and nuzzled there, lazily dragging his fist up and down until Stiles was whining and writhing against him. 

"Goddammit, Derek, faster, this is _torture_ , you asshole." 

"Thought you didn't want to come in five seconds," Derek said into his skin. 

Stiles gripped at his shoulders and thrust his hips up, but Derek set his free hand against them to hold him in place. Stiles whined again, needy and frustrated. "You're the _worst_ , oh my God, I have no idea why I love you." 

The word hit him like a physical blow, and Derek stopped with the hand job and lifted his head to look Stiles in the eye. "What?" 

Stiles blinked dazedly, his eyes clearing quickly as he seemed to realize what he'd said. "Oh. I, uh—"

"Did you mean it?" Derek asked. 

For two too many heartbeats, Stiles just stared at him. Finally, he nodded his head. "Yeah. Uh, I kinda did." 

Derek lunged forward and kissed him, jerking his hand faster now and swallowing the surprised and desirous little noises Stiles made in response. It wasn't long before Stiles bucked against him and came with a shout, shooting hot and sticky all over Derek's hand. 

He sagged into Derek, and Derek rubbed his back and laid them both down on the bed, finally letting himself come down from the post-orgasm high and enjoy the afterglow. 

It was quiet for about thirty seconds. 

"So, I'm guessing the enthusiastic kissing means you feel similarly?" Stiles asked. "Or maybe at least don't mind that I said something that I probably shouldn't have said for another month at least, because we haven't really been on an actual date—" 

Derek clapped his clean hand over Stiles's mouth. "Yes, we have. And yes," his voice softened, "I do." 

Even though he couldn't see Stiles's mouth, Derek could feel the grin spread under his hand. "Does that mean I can stay here tonight?"

"You can stay longer than tonight." 

Stiles's grin grew even wider. "Awesome."

***

Derek hoped the pounding he heard the next morning could be attributed to a headache, but he hadn't had that much to drink at the reception. Besides, he was pretty sure a hangover wouldn't be shouting his name. 

He extricated himself from Stiles's grip (to a grumbled, half-awake protest), pulled on a pair of boxers and a tank top, and ran his hands over his hair and face, hoping to scrape off any come that might have dried there. 

That was probably as good as it was going to get, though.

Derek opened the door and did a double-take to see his sister standing there. "Cora?" He rubbed his eyes, sure he was seeing things. "I thought you and Lydia were—"

Cora cut him off with a swipe of her hand. "Lydia's packing our stuff and we don't have to be out of town for another two hours, at least." She crossed her arms and glared at him. "You didn't come back to the reception last night." 

Derek's stomach dropped. 

"In fact, neither did Stiles." 

"Cora—"

Her eyes took on a dangerous gleam. "Did you cheat on your boyfriend at _my wedding_ , Derek?" 

"Cora, _no!_ " God, this had gotten _beyond_ out of hand. "Of course not!" 

"Then would you mind explaining just what the hell's going on?" 

Derek briefly debated where it would be _least_ disruptive to have this conversation, and stepped into the hallway and mostly closed the door. "Danny was interested in Isaac, so I told him to go ahead. We hadn't been dating six months; we only met two weeks ago. And it wasn't...we never _clicked_." 

Cora blinked at him, brow furrowed in confusion. "But...you said..."

Derek sighed and shook his head. "I lied to Jordan. He was just being... _Jordan_ , so I said I had a boyfriend so he wouldn't think I was married to my career. I didn't count on him telling you and Mom. And you were just so happy about it that I...couldn't say no to you. I met Stiles because the only way I could find a boyfriend in time was to get a matchmaker." 

Cora was still gaping at him, though Derek could see her putting the pieces together. "Wait, so you met Danny two weeks ago through Stiles. Your matchmaker. And you've actually been interested in _him_ all this time?"

"I...yes?" Derek rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. "I was trying to make it work with Danny, honestly, I was. It wasn't until I gave the speech last night that I realized it wasn't going to." He sighed again. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lied to you about it." 

"Why did you?" Cora asked. "I mean, I get why you lied to Jordan. He's an _ass_. But why me?" 

Derek shrugged. "You sounded so happy, and if I'd told you it wasn't true, it would've meant another lecture from you, another lecture from Mom, and probably a host of blind dates as you both tried to find someone for me. Like what happened before Laura's wedding."

"Oh, come on, that wasn't _that_ bad," Cora protested. 

Derek crossed his arms over his chest and gave her his best unimpressed look. "You 'randomly' ran into me _six different times_ in three weeks and left me with whatever poor guy you'd dragged with you. Even after I repeatedly asked you not to." 

Cora's eyes darted away from him, and she shifted her weight in a way that told Derek she was starting to see his point, but wasn't going to admit it. "I just wanted you to find someone so you could be happy." 

"I _was_ happy," Derek said. "I was perfectly happy, and I didn't need a boyfriend for it." 

Cora looked distraught. "But—"

Derek raised his eyebrows, and Cora fell silent. "Okay, fine," she grumbled after a moment. "I may have...gone a little overboard after Lydia and I got together." 

Derek snorted. 

Cora rolled her eyes. "Okay, fine, a lot overboard." She poked him in the chest. "But that doesn't excuse you lying to me." 

"No, it doesn't," Derek admitted. "And I...I really am sorry." 

Cora groaned and threw her arms around him. "All is forgiven, you great big lug. I love you, you know that?" 

Derek hugged her back. "Yeah, I know. I love you, too." 

Cora dropped back to the ground and checked her watch. "Oh, crap. I should go help Lydia finish up with the packing." She hugged him again. "Just one question. Stiles makes you happy?" 

Derek ducked his head, but he was pretty sure Cora could see the fond smile anyway. "Yeah. He does." 

"Okay." Cora smiled too, and Derek didn't acknowledge that it looked a little wobbly. "That's all that matters."

***

_Three months later_...

 

"Derek, quit moving around!" 

Derek scowled at Stiles. "You've been messing with that camera for fifteen minutes." 

Stiles scowled right back and continued fidgeting with the tripod. "That's because you keep moving." 

"The couch is seven feet long." Derek spread his arms along the back of it to prove his point. "I know your camera gets the whole thing." 

"When you move, it messes up the focus," Stiles grumbled, and frowned at the back of the camera one more time. "Okay, _there_. Stay right there." 

Derek obediently froze. A second later, Stiles launched himself onto the couch and squirmed into the spot next to Derek. He waved his camera remote. "You ready to tell everybody about our beautiful love, boo?" 

Derek poked him. "Don't call me boo on camera." 

Stiles stuck out his tongue. "You're no fun. Pet names sell like hotcakes." 

Derek pinched his arm. "Does it sell like hotcakes when I tell everyone my dates were terrible, so I hooked up with my matchmaker instead?" 

Stiles sat up, mouth hanging open in outrage. "You wouldn't." 

Derek schooled his face into the picture of innocence. "Why not? It's the truth, isn't it? I mean, you set me up with my own uncle." 

"He was using a fake name!" Stiles protested.

"You even took me out on a date to make up for it." Derek fluttered his eyelashes dramatically. "Our _first_ date." 

Stiles glared. "You're just angry because I won the bet, aren't you?" 

"You didn't win the bet," Derek said, for the thousandth time. "The bet was that you'd find me someone I wanted to be in a relationship with."

Stiles flailed, waving his hands over himself. "Hello? I found you _me_."

"Doesn't count," Derek said adamantly. 

"The hell it doesn't." Stiles climbed onto Derek's lap and dug his fingers into his ribs. 

Derek jerked and grabbed Stiles's wrists to keep them away from him. "What are you doing?"

Stiles squirmed against him, trying to get free. "I'm tickling you until you admit I'm right!" 

Derek laughed. "You're not right!" 

"Say it counts!"

"No!" 

"Say it—"

Derek lunged up and kissed Stiles, firmly cutting off the words. After a brief _mmph_ of protest, Stiles melted into him with a soft sigh. 

Derek wasn't sure how long they sat there, kissing, but it was long enough for him to move his hands so they were linked with Stiles's, rubbing his thumbs in little circles over Stiles's knuckles. 

"That doesn't mean you win," Stiles said when they broke for air.

"Yeah." Derek let his gaze trail over Stiles's face, happy and flushed and so unbelievably fond, and then he cupped his jaw and pulled him back in for another kiss. "I think I do."

**Author's Note:**

> Derek goes on dates with:   
> Jackson Whittemore  
> Mason  
> Alan Deaton  
> Chris Argent  
> Adrian Harris  
> Liam Dunbar
> 
> Come say hi on [Tumblr](http://mad-madam-m.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/mad_madam_m)!


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